


Dawn's Tapestry

by iduna, IncreasingLight



Series: Warp and Weft [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Blood Mage no Seisen | Dragon Age: Dawn of the Seeker, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Avvar Magic, Chantry reformation, Circle of Magi, Dragons, F/M, Jaws of Hakkon DLC, Knitting, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Running Away, The Descent DLC, Trespasser DLC, Weaving, Witch of the Wilds, knot magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2018-12-30 04:18:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 42
Words: 110,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12100554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iduna/pseuds/iduna, https://archiveofourown.org/users/IncreasingLight/pseuds/IncreasingLight
Summary: Picking up where 'Echoes of the Dawn' left off, this covers the Inquisition DLC, and what happens next in our 'Avexis is the Inquisitor' AU.Having once saved the world, Avexis is now struggling to deal with the consequences of her prior decisions while Thedas continues to need her guidance with everything from rifts to earthquakes to badly behaved Avvar gods.  Solas is gone, and her companions are slowly moving on with their lives.  Her past choices were dangerous ones - Vivienne is now Grand Enchanter, and Val Royeaux is closer than ever to picking a new Divine, with or without her help, while hundreds of former Circle mages depend on her to decide their fate.  In the midst of the pressure, Avexis and Cullen have to decide if they have a future together, despite their pasts.Part 2 of the newly formed 'Warp and Weft' series.





	1. Another Boring Party

He’d only donned his coat a half hour before, but already Cullen’s collar chafed at his neck.  He resisted the urge to unbutton it, knowing that Josie would be over to adjust the damn thing in half a heartbeat if he dared – audience or no audience.

“Inquisiteur…”

The whiny voices of the Orlesians bowing and scraping to his Ladybird rubbed as well. Each of them seemed determined to one up the guest before, and the level of smarminess and insincere compliments directed at his Inquisitor weighed her down.  Literally, if her posture was any indication.

She slumped lazily into her throne’s cushions, legs spread wide, with a pleasant expression – almost certainly forced – worn like a mask. Her thoughts surely echoed his own.

_Fucking get on with it._

The candelabras shone dully, the light they gave off, usually warm and welcoming, tonight was dimmed, as if they didn’t want to perform for the guests, either. He wished for natural light, to dispel the gloom, but the doors at the far end of the hall had been closed for the occasion.  Unnecessary, as Skyhold’s residents didn’t need to be told to steer clear of the Great Hall when Josie hosted one of her ‘small fetes’, less they be handed a tray and told to distribute hor d’oeuvres, canapes, and tiny cakes.

Summoned by the thought of food, however miniscule, Cullen’s stomach rumbled, his Ladybird’s mouth twitched, and her smile bloomed a little brighter for a moment. He folded his arms across his chest defensively, but then dropped them, to hold the hilt of his sword.  There was no reason to be embarrassed.  He hadn’t eaten since Avexis had forcefed him breakfast, and the servants had long since finished laying out the spread.  The smell of roasted lamb rose to the rafters.  His wasn’t the only stomach rebelling against dignity.

They were almost finished – a mere half dozen guests left to be greeted now, and then he’d be allowed to guide Avexis to her chair, and take his own hard-won place of honor at her right hand.

His battle with Josie over the ridiculous manners had been something of legend. He’d only emerged victorious when Leliana, softly smiling, had mentioned certain death threats that had been delivered anonymously.  Even Josie had to agree that Avexis’ protection was more important than quibbling over whether the Comte de Montfort or the Marquise d’Abelard deserved to be Avexis’ dinner partner.

Cullen frowned, and the latest petitioner took a step back at the expression, before he could school it into something more appropriate. Avexis had seemed relieved past the point of just wanting him next to her – but they’d had no time to discuss her discomfort before Josie had whirled them into fittings and tutorials about the guests.

The last couple in the receiving line was announced, and Cullen prepared himself to move forward to offer his hand to his Lady, when the doors in the back cracked open, and the last of the reddened sunset slanted into the candlelit chamber. Next to him, Josie stiffened at the intrusion, while Avexis audibly sighed.  Cullen braced himself for bad news, but instead…

Instead, a small group of Avvar, skin tinted blue, and dressed in the most practical clothing Cullen had ever seen worn in the Frostbacks, stepped into the Grand Hall, one with wide eyes, but the others with the sort of Wicked Grace faces that even Josie wouldn’t be able to beat. Avexis sat up straighter, and Cullen only stifled his chuckle when Josie kicked him.

Of course, Ladybird would rather play host to a group of Avvar scouts than a horde of Orlesian nobility.

The leader approached the throne and Avexis rose. “Inquisitor.”  The woman glanced around, taking in the food and company with a level of nonchalance that Vivienne – were she present - would envy.  “I wish you and your hold plenty.”

“It has been a good year for hunting. The Mountain-Father has smiled on us,” Avexis replied formally, and Josie relaxed.  Cullen knew how thorough her etiquette lessons had been, but still, the Inquisitor was a shining example of graciousness. “You are welcome to join us, and share our prosperity.”

The Avvar representative nodded. “You honor us with your hospitality.”

“Perhaps someday your Hold can reciprocate,” Avexis smiled, and Cullen could tell she was trying not to bounce. She had sent messengers to several holds weeks ago about the possible dragon, but this was the only group to respond.

The formal pleasantries went on for some time, the scouts displaying a gift they’d brought – a very fancy staff offered by their Augur – which Avexis immediately accepted, eying the strings and brightly colored feathers used as the focus curiously. “Josie, have more chairs brought in for our guests, placed near me, if you please.”

Josie opened her mouth to protest the ruin of her seating plans, looked thoughtful, and then acquiesced, gracefully. “Certainly, Inquisitor.”  Her hand motions to the servants were graceful things, and they clustered together like a flock of starlings to follow her wordless orders.

Cullen seized his opportunity to claim his place at her side, and offered his hand, and Avexis laid her own upon his arm with a small smile, promising future favors. “Perhaps this dinner won’t be as dull as either of us feared, Ladybird,” he risked a whisper.

Avexis’ eyes flashed to the Marquise d’Abelard. “Oh, I never thought it would be boring, Commander,” she shivered slightly, but turned away to the main table on his arm, squeezing it slightly.  “Quite the contrary.”

The muttered complaints of the displaced Orlesians were music to Cullen’s ears, but their whining didn’t keep them from their abominable forwardness – several hands skimmed across his backside while he led the Inquisitor to her chair, already pulled out for her. She sat, and the group of Avvar sat themselves down without ceremony.  Avexis picked up the roll of bread in front of her, and glancing at Josie, broke it, and handed half to the Avvar leader.  “What is mine, is yours.”

The Avvar took it, and ripped off a hunk of bread, chewed and swallowed.

“Such savages,” a nearby elderly Orlesian woman twittered to her companion.

“They’re like birds,” the wide-eyed Avvar scout muttered to his older associate. “No point to their noise.”  The older scout back-handed him.

“Be polite. Even birds speak for the Lady of the Skies.  We are guests here, just as they are.  Do you want them to think you were raised with no manners?”

Cullen choked on his bread, and fumbled for his water glass. Avexis shifted forward to assist, concerned, but he waved her back with two fingers.  She sat back, eyes worried, but forward.

They were still trying to maintain a low profile, at Josie’s request. Any open demonstration of preferential treatment was taboo, much to their mutual displeasure.  Their argument was strong - the war was over.  There was no point in the pretense of using either of them as bait for allies with no enemy to defeat.

But Josie insisted that the Inquisition still had to be fed, and housed, and the coin of the nobility did just that. It was a wonder that he had any appetite at all, knowing where the food came from.  He’d rather dine on elfroot and herbs than be beholden to the likes of these stuffed popinjays.

But he was supposed to behave himself, so he allowed his plate to be filled, and thankfully began to eat, the food disappearing with the unexpectedly enjoyable dinner conversation. The scout seated next to him started a lively discussion about the best way to hunt a bear with Cassandra.

He’d never seen the Seeker so animated, as she described her experiences in the Hinterlands. The entire Avvar group was laughing and miming punching bears, as she flushed and admitted the truth.  Avexis giggled, unable to resist.  “You finally admit your skills, Cassandra.  I suppose there really is a first time for everything.” 

Next to her, Rylen, a trifle too relaxed for most of the company, stretched his arm across the back of her chair. Cullen squashed down his jealousy at the other man’s easier relationship path.  “That’s nothing.  She punched a varghest for me, in the Western Approach.  Didn’t she, Bull?”

The Iron Bull grinned, and swallowed, before speaking. “Never seen anything like it.  Knocked it right out.”

A Orlesian twit pretended to faint, until Sera kicked her chair. “Can it,” she told the woman who jerked abruptly.  “Bet you’ve never done anything, and Cass outranks you and all that shite.”

“Lady Pentaghast-” the woman began, hopelessly. Cullen could have easily advised her not to talk back, but he was now occupied with hiding his smile behind his wine glass.

“Seeker Pentaghast,” Rylen corrected politely, with a grin at the Seeker next to him. Cassandra’s fingers threatened to tear the napkin in her lap.  “She didn’t go through the Vigil to be called ‘Lady’.”

Cassandra blushed deeper. Cullen greatly approved – nothing about this damned dinner was turning out to be dull.

Avexis finally butted in, with lidded eyes hiding her amusement. “Only half-right, I think.  She’s soon to be ‘Lady Seeker’.”

Cassandra pressed her lips together, “Only if the Revered Mothers don’t…” her words faltered, and the lighthearted conversation died out. Cullen understood – talking about the next Divine had become a forbidden topic around Skyhold – even once Vivienne had left for Val Royeaux, to prop up her own slipping chances and, barring success, solidify her power as newly elected Grand Enchanter.

Even he didn’t know what Avexis had done to minimize Vivienne’s chance at the Sunburst Throne. It might not have been her, for that matter.  He didn’t much care, either.  Vivienne – for all her positive attributes – was dangerous, like magic was dangerous.  He’d rather his Ladybird didn’t get burned.

Sera finally snorted, breaking the silence, “Come on, you lot are about as lively as the garden slugs I slipped into the salad.” The Orlesian next to her gagged on her arugula.  “Don’t worry, it was going to the other table,” Sera grinned impishly.  “Didn’t want my greens all wholy.  Get it, Seeker?  Holy?”

Josie pressed her lips together and made a valiant attempt at rescuing the conversation. “Marquise, I understand you had a request of a personal nature for the Inquisitor?”

The woman lifted her chin. “I have reason to believe she…”

“You’re discussing business during the meal?” The wide-eyed scout interrupted, only to be elbowed in the ribs.  “But Morra…”

“Customs differ, Elrik,” the older scout shut the innocent down. “We are guests here.”

“As I was saying,” the Marquise spoke over the Avvar, the curl of her lip speaking volumes, leaning forward in her chair in an attempt to catch the Inquisitor’s attention. “It is a matter of succession.  My two oldest children died in service to the wretched usurper Gaspard.”

“Both of them?” Cullen muttered, understanding exactly where this woman’s alliances were.

Josie kicked his chair. “I am sorry for your loss,” she murmured graciously, as if he hadn’t jerked to attention across the table.

“Thank you. I have reason to believe, thanks to your gracious former First Enchanter, now Grand Enchanter Vivienne, that you can give me news of my son.  My youngest was a Templar, serving at Montsimmard.  Pierre Abelard.”  The woman sipped her wine, face hidden by the rim, and her mask, but her wine trembled in her glass.  “That is your former Circle, was it not?”

Cullen jerked in sudden understanding at the Inquisitor’s earlier relief at the seating arrangements. _Pierre… that’s his mother. No wonder she didn’t want to be sat next to her… didn’t Josie know?  Did Leliana?_ He exchanged a swift glance with the spymaster, who nodded, imperceptibly.  He tipped his glass in gratitude, and the woman smiled.

Next to him, Avexis opened her mouth, her arm, brushing against his, tense with terror.

“I imagine,” Cassandra’s voice was a little too loud, “That his fate was that of hundreds of Templars. He went to Corypheus, Marquise d’Abelard, and was destroyed by the red lyrium Samson provided.”

The woman’s face darkened, “My Pierre was pious. He would not have been so easily fooled as to follow anyone naming themselves a god.”  Varric coughed pointedly, and the woman’s eyes narrowed, a nerve jumping in her cheek.  “Your Grand Enchanter insisted you were aware of his fate.”  Her hand tightened on her fork, her lips narrowed.  “You must know-"

Cullen raised his wine, and sipped, catching Josephine’s eyes. He was no expert at the subtle art of communicating without speaking directly on a subject, but for his Ladybird’s sake, he had to try.  “To many in the Order, piety was of less importance than obedience.  Perhaps after the Circles fell, your son felt the same?”  Josie’s face didn’t change, but somehow, he thought she’d caught on.

Dorian coughed, “Pardon me, but I think I recognize the name.” Avexis glared at him, half begging and half resigned.  “No, I’m sure of it.  He died in Crestwood, didn’t he?  The last victim of that varghest infestation.  I’m almost sure of it.  He was corrupted… but not so far gone that he couldn’t talk.  He recognized the Inquisitor – don’t you remember, bella donna?”  The mage feigned thoughtfulness.  “Yes, he died.  I saw to his pyre myself.”  He patted the lady’s hand.  “I’m so sorry to be the bearer of such ill news.”

The Marquise shrank into herself, aging a decade with the bad news. “I see. I owe you my - gratitude, Magister Pavus.”

“Not a magister,” Dorian smiled at her with hollow eyes and removed his hand. “It was the least I could do, for such a…” he coughed, while he searched for an appropriate word, “…dedicated Templar?”  His eyes were hard, as he added, “Truly an example of the Southern Circle that was.”

Cullen frowned again. Avexis had paled to the point of alarm, and he beckoned the server over.  “The Inquisitor needs wine,” he murmured, and the servant filled her cup.  She didn’t normally indulge during such affairs, but this was an exception.  She allowed herself a small smile in his general direction before sipping, and a few moments later some color was added back to her cheeks.  She then took a larger swallow, rolling it around in her mouth with her eyes closed in apparent enjoyment.

As if her indulgence was a signal they’d been waiting for, the Avvar scout next to her guffawed, “Now this is a party! Morra, tell a story!  That one about the four rams and your grandmother!”

“That was your grandmother, ass!”

“We’re cousins!”

Varric sat forward in his chair. “I want to hear this.  People tell me I spin a decent yarn myself.  Care for a contest?”

The Avvar eyed him, and then grinned. “You’re on, dwarf.  As the challenged, I will begin.”

Cullen felt Avexis relax next to him with the distraction. Sighing, he settled down to the storytelling contest between Varric and the Avvar Morra. By the end of the evening, they were fast friends, and the Marquise was nowhere to be seen – excused herself early, no doubt.  No one would judge her for it. 

Another crisis averted. 

It was hard to imagine that the crises would ever stop. But he had to believe they would.  Otherwise, would all of their sacrifices ever be worth it?

Maker, let them be worth it.


	2. Regrets, Bedding, and Unwanted Attention

Avexis flung her sash across her room when she was finally allowed to retire, the hollows under her eyes as purple as the irises. “Salope!  Casse-toi, Vivienne!” She fumed and kicked it when the silk refused to ball up and toss satisfactorily.  Cullen stopped at the top of the stairs, his forehead creased.  “She couldn’t just – ta gueule!  She had to buy some favor with her knowledge…”  The gusts of frigid air from her balcony doors blew directly in her face, reddening her cheeks like she’d been slapped.

“Love, it’s over.”

“It’s never over,” Avexis seethed, jaw clenched. “Pierre’s blood will be on my hands for the rest of my life.  And Vivienne will hold it over me until she dies.”

“That’s not true,” Cullen reached her, and wrapped his arms around her, holding her back to his chest. She slumped against him.  “It was self-defense.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Her contradiction rang with conviction.  “He didn’t attack, Cullen.  He was begging for forgiveness.”

“Did he beg his other victims?” His soft voice brought tears to her eyes.  “His repentance seems altogether too convenient.”  Avexis opened her mouth to contradict him yet again, but was interrupted with a knock at the door.

She pulled away from him, abruptly, “Enter!”

Josie climbed the steps. “Inquisitor, I am sorry to disturb you, but I needed to check that you were…” she saw the sash flung across the floor, and rose her eyes, creased with concern.  “I made a grave error.  Leliana just told me.  I am so sorry – I should have made the connection…”

“Yes, you should have,” Avexis ground her teeth together, and flexed her marked hand, palm stinging.

“It will not happen again. I’ve already started drafting up plans to prevent such a mistake,” Josie promised, contrite.  “Are you well?  I… I was worried for you, when I realized.”

“No,” Avexis sighed, “Yes. I’m angry, because she would never see or admit what her son was.  I am glad he will never become the Marquis.”  She shrugged.  “I… je ne regrette rien, Josie.  Except for my hand in it.  And that is something that the Inquisitor cannot deny.  His is not the only blood that stains my hands.  How many other Orlesian houses across the country are missing heirs?”

“It was war,” Cullen urged, face lined with gravity.  When had she started being able to tell - just from which lines were prominent - how he was feeling?  Her next words were gentle, reflecting her thoughts.

“It was vengeance,” Avexis corrected. “It was war for his companions.”  Her shoulders slumped, “It is done.  Just… have Leliana make sure the evidence will not betray us, will you?  It’s a minor lie – I killed him next to the varghest nest, and Vivienne wasn’t present, when I…  Only my closest companions know the truth of it.”  She shuddered, and closed her eyes, clutching her desk.  “Of which, unfortunately, Vivienne is one.”

Josie nodded, face clouded. “Vivienne is one voice among many, and while feared, she is not well liked.  If played right, this can be turned to your advantage.  I will see to the Marquise myself, Inquisitor.  Try to sleep, Avexis.  Please.”

“I don’t want it turned to my advantage. I want it to go away.” Avexis shivered, wrapping her arms around her body. “Sleep is unlikely.  I don’t want to see what the Fade holds for me tonight.”  She smiled weakly.  “Thank you for your apology.  I… I will try to rest.”

The Ambassador left with a brief nod and curtsey, and Cullen, sighing, went to pull the blankets off her bed, prompting a confused look. “What are you doing?”

“We’re going to sit out on your balcony and watch the stars,” he ordered, firmly. “I have no early appointments tomorrow, and you don’t want to sleep.”  He took the corner of the blanket and flipped it around her shoulders, and then tugged her towards him.  “Come on, Ladybird.  I’m not so selfish as to leave you alone with your nightmares.  Josie won’t argue about me staying with you tonight, not when it was her error.”

She relaxed into him all at once, “Thank you.”

“Least I can do.”

They settled themselves on the balcony, huddled in the massive coverlet, close together. “What are the Avvar here about?  The dragon?”

“Je ne sais pas,” Avexis shrugged, and grinned up at him, noting the circles under his eyes, lined with fatigue, and mentally swore to stop worrying him. “But it was lovely to have them.  Did you hear that story about the three fishermen?”  She giggled, the noise half-hearted.  “I’ll never look at herring the same again.”  She paused, and then continued, “I assume we’ll find out tomorrow.  They never discuss business during meals, apparently.  I would wager Josie will be up all night in the library, looking up Avvar etiquette.  Did you notice that they didn’t relax until I had taken a drink?  Thank the Maker it seems my basic skills were adequate – but what else did we miss?”

Cullen hesitated, and then kissed her head, “It has to be about the dragon.”

“Not sure it was a dragon,” she corrected firmly. “It sounded wrong.  And there are the rifts, as well.  Can you imagine what a rift, left alone for so long, must be like?”  She shrugged, again, and snuggled back against him.  He tightened his arms, “I can’t describe what it sounded like.  And I haven’t heard it again.  Not since Corypheus died.”  Her head fell back against his shoulder, and she reveled in the way he supported her.  Every time she fell apart, he was always there.  “So strong,” she sighed, and turned to kiss him.  Her lips lingered on his jaw.  “I love that you’re staying.”  She leaned back to see him better, her smile more genuine.

“You say that every night I stay.” His eyes sparkled, caught in the candlelight from just inside her room.

“And I’ll say it again,” Avexis’ voice lightened. “Makes the room a retreat, knowing my Commander is there.”  She sat up, and moved to straddle him deliberately, and he moved his arms to wrap the coverlet around her back, cozy and safe, while his hands cupped her waist.  “Even you have to admit the beauty of the strategic retreat.”  She leaned her head against his, and stroked his cheek.  “I don’t want to watch the stars, Cullen.”  She fiddled with his collar, and then deliberately, slid the fastener loose, and touched where the too tight material had left on his throat.  “These manners leave a mark on us both, oui?”  Her fingers caught on his stubble.

“Kiss it better?” His voice was hoarse, and Avexis giggled.

“What does Varric say, ‘Turnabout is fair play’?” She bent her lips to his neck instead.  “Remind me to tell Josie it was your coat that left the mark.” 

He didn’t answer in words, and the stars were ignored in favor of more pressing matters.

 

<DT>

 

They convened, too early the next morning, in the War Room, the advisors, companions, and the Avvar. It was a motley group, accompanied by Sky-Watcher, at Josie’s request, to keep them all from overstepping.  Thankfully, this time, the Avvar didn’t wait to launch into the meat of the problem.  Cullen couldn’t help but approve.  “The Jaws of Hakkon,” mused Avexis.  “Hakkon is your god of winter, correct?” 

“And also of war,” Morra answered. “The gods are versatile creatures.”

Varric scribbled madly in his notebook in the corner, his eyes clever and bright over the page. Cullen had carefully not asked what he was writing so intently these days – after the way the dwarf had written up Hawke, he really didn’t want to know what he would do with his Ladybird’s character.

“Am I to assume these unseasonably cold temperatures are his fault?” Dorian quipped. He’d taken to wearing the hat Avexis made for him every day, but he still shivered.  Mind you, it had been a frigid autumn.  Avexis was two-thirds through a sweater for Cullen – she kept holding it up to him, muttering about how broad his shoulders were.  He wasn’t sure how he could make it fit under his armor – the buckles and straps extended only so far - but… the additional layer would be welcome.  As the lyrium left his system, he found himself chilly more often – an inconvenient side effect, but one of the few ways he could be sure it was leaving at all.

The other effects were far more unpleasant than just being cold. Cold was easily dealt with.  His eyesight, he was nearly certain wasn’t quite the way it used to be.  But maybe he was just getting old.

He was happy to wear anything she made him – even though he wasn’t singled out. It seemed like half the keep was wrapped in her shawls and scarves.  Dorian was wearing at least three – one crossed his chest, one wrapped around his throat like a cravat, and the other over his head and under his hat like a cowl.  Every time he entered the War Room, he cursed the crossdrafts.  He avoided stepping outside entirely, huddling by whatever fire was closest, moustache drooping miserably.

Cullen wasn’t sure how to tell him that it was going to get far, far colder. The Inquisitor’s companions had spent most of the last winter in the warmest spots of Orlais.

Another scout, a man named Piotr, snorted. “Something like that.”

“Well, I’m not being left behind,” the Altus announced to no one in particular. “The Frostbacks are full of Tevinter ruins.  You need me, whether you know it or not.  Who else are you going to find with the adequate education in the back of beyond?  It’s my duty to accompany you, despite… this abominable weather.”

“There is also the question of the mystery of the Last Inquisitor,” Josie prompted. “He was thought to be in the area of this Hold when he disappeared.  There is that University professor who specializes in Ameridan, the one who has been writing for us, begging for a chance…” she tapped her notes thoughtfully.  “Professor Kendrick, that was the name.  If we agree to help you with the rifts, and the Jaws, do you think we could work something out?”

Avexis smirked, and hit Dorian. “And you told me I didn’t need to read that book.”

“It’s trite drivel masquerading as history!” Dorian pouted. “Ludicrous.  And accompanied by abysmal poetry.”

“There was more than poetry in there,” Cassandra sighed. “Avexis, I want to accompany you, but Val Royeaux demands my presence.”

“The presence of both of us,” Leliana’s eyes were hidden behind her hood. “I will remain, however, if you deem it necessary.”

Cassandra frowned at the spymaster. “As will I.  Of course.  If you need me.”

“I want you both to stay.” Avexis protested. “But the Chantry… how long will the Mothers wait?”

Leliana smiled, sultry and secret, shrugging, and stroking the table as gentle as a lover, “If neither of us attend the interminable debates, as long as it takes.”

“If they want me, they will have to wait for me to be available,” Cassandra agreed, curt. “I will not rush my last duty in favor of the next.”

“Is it wise, to leave the Chantry without a rudder?” Cullen fretted, clinking his extra map markers together in his palm, weighing the price of Cassandra’s protection, and Leliana’s machinations, against the aimless Chantry.

“Your god must be patient,” Morra the Avvar mused, unphased by the abrupt change in topic.

“So patient, that half of us don’t even think he exists,” Dorian quipped. The Avvar recoiled, and made several signs to avert evil.  “What did I say?”

“You should not test the gods,” Sky-Watcher intoned seriously. “They have ways of making their presence known, when you do such things.  Drawing the attention of a god can be a boon, or a grave mistake.  Sometimes it is both.”

“We will keep that in mind,” Avexis stated, solemn. “We want no such attentions.”  She pressed her lips together and sorted through the stack of papers in front of her.  “Tell me, Morra, would your Hold allow us to put up some sort of camp, to be based out of while we seal the rifts, and allow a researcher to enter your territory, to search for Ameridan’s fate?  He will have a guard of Inquisition soldiers, of course, who will assist with the Jaws as necessary.”

“Don’t see why not,” the woman replied after a moment. “Thane Sun-Hair sent us to make friends, and tell you we need someone to stop the gods from going crazy around the holes in the air.  You have to sleep somewhere, and it’s not going to be in the Hold.”

“Why not?” Varric asked, the first the man had spoken, his pen poised above his book.

The lead scout laughed, “No offense, but the Thane’s not stupid. You’ll bring soldiers, Orlesians, many of whom still think conquering the Frostbacks is just a stepping stone to ruling Fereldan again.  You don’t fuck an army and not expect bairns ten months later.”  Josie choked and Varric chuckled, and put his pen back to paper.  “The Thane doesn’t need that kind of connection to your Inquisition.  You’ll do for the holes in the sky – the rifts, or whatever you call them – and she’ll talk to your fancy teacher, I have no doubt, and you’ll help us defeat the Jaws, but after that, you leave.  We’re allies, for a time, but not friends of the Hold.  That’s a title you must earn.” 

Leliana murmured, “Quite wise.”

“That sounds perfectly fair to both sides,” Cullen agreed, resting his hands on his sword. “We’ll bring as few Orlesian chevaliers as possible, and perhaps Sky Watcher could serve… as an exchange.  A sign of trust, if you like.”

Morra eyed both Cullen and the other Avvar thoughtfully. “Oh, I like.  So will Sun-Hair.  I know her type.  Such a man will be in her bedroll in less than a fortnight, if he’s willing.  She likes them big enough not to break.”  The Avvar shrugged, non-committal.  Morra turned her bright eyes back to Cullen.  “Will you accompany us, Commander?”

“I hadn’t planned on it,” Cullen stammered, rubbing the back of his neck. “My duties largely keep me within Skyhold.” 

“A shame,” she mourned, and nudged Avexis. “Your Commander is very pretty, Inquisitor.  If a bit frail.  He could use some feeding up.”

“I’m taken,” Cullen snapped his teeth together. Avexis kept her lips firmly closed, the only sign of her impatience the pink on her cheeks.  Josie closed her eyes, as if she was praying for patience, but never stopped scribbling.

“I’d share,” the Avvar woman winked. “I’ve had stranger bedfellows than a pretty lowlander or two.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: There are some really bad French words here. It might be better not to know. Really. That said...
> 
> Salope - c*nt (yeah, Avexis is pissed.)
> 
> Casse-toi - fuck off
> 
> Ta gueule - Shut Up. At least she didn't say 'ferme ta gueule' which is the equivalent of 'shut the fuck up'. Probably because Vivienne wasn't actually in the room...
> 
> Je ne regrette rien - I regret nothing.


	3. Bad News and Old Habits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I owe every one of our readers a massive apology - due to a mixture of technical difficulties combined with the remote nature of where in the world I live, I had no way of posting a chapter last week.
> 
> So I'm posting one today, and I hope you'll forgive us, and keep reading. There will be another chapter Friday, on schedule.

The packing and preparation for their trip south went faster than Avexis wanted it to – and yet, in another way, not fast enough. Her armies were still trickling back from their previous postings – but the bulk of the forces wouldn’t be needed for at least a month, until their forward scouts had found possible encampments.  In the meantime, work went on – the wrapping up of loose threads from Corypheus’ defeat, and the various fronts around Thedas.

The meeting scheduled for this morning was one she’d been dreading – the return of Chambreterre from Wycome, where the Lavellan massacre had taken place. Josie had mitigated much of the fallout, and Wycome itself was, thanks to their ties in Nevarra and Kirkwall, no longer being ruled by Corypheus’ allies, but… people were still dead.  People, that, once upon a time, might have been hers.

Her feet dragged, reluctant over the stones, scuffing the toes of her boots. Had she ever been so reluctant to approach the Commander’s office?

Perhaps once. But that had been personal.  This was personal, and business…

She didn’t want to know what the Lieutenant had for her. She’d been informed that they’d brought back everything they could salvage of the clan’s personal belongings, sending their scouts and spies into the remains of the camp to take what they could hope to return to the remaining Dalish – even now, Loranil’s Keeper searched for far-flung relatives who might be alive.

A huge task, but made easier with Leliana’s ravens carrying the news.

Avexis touched the cold metal bracing on the wooden door, steeling herself to open it. She was already late for the debriefing.  Cullen would be there, and Rylen.  She wasn’t alone.  She was never alone, not any longer.  And how much worse could the news get then an entire clan dying?

She opened the door, and stepped into silence.

Cullen’s face was the color of the mountains surrounding Skyhold, and Rylen’s eyes wide. Chambreterre saluted, but avoided her gaze.  “Merde,” Avexis’ voice wavered, and she struggled to firm it up.  “What do you have for me, Lieutenant?”

The color rushed back into Cullen's cheeks. “Inquisitor…” he cleared his throat.  “Dismissed, both of you.  I’ll… I’ll tell her myself.  And both of you – discretion is crucial.  Please.”

“Ominous,” Avexis took a step back, as Rylen and the officer slipped out the side door. It latched, blocking out the noise from the battlements.  With them gone, her attempt to remain professional, to hide her fear, drained away with the color in her face.  “Cullen, you’re scaring me.” 

“The Keeper left a journal, Ladybird. Most of it is clan doings, but she pressed it into Chambreterre’s hands, and made her swear to give it to you.”  Cullen lifted a large book, the weight of it heavier than its mass, judging by the way his shoulders bent.  “It - it says you’re not a Lavellan at all.”

“They’re the ones that gave me to the Circle.  I’m a Circle elf,” Avexis shrugged, not understanding why he was so upset.  “I’m nothing at all.”

“You’re more than that, love,” Cullen approached, and flipped to a page, scanning with his finger to the appropriate place. “Here.”

Avexis took the book from his shaking hands, and squinted to read the tiny writing. 

 

> _Camped at the edge of the Silent Plains today. The Nevarrans traded with us happily enough – the elfroot here is plentiful.  I think we’ll stay a few days, stock up on herbs and medicines.  Soria is due to give birth in the next fortnight – it would be a good omen if she could give birth in a friendly place.  The first new child born to the clan in five years deserves every chance we can give it._

Avexis flipped to the next page. 

 

> _I had forgotten how it felt to be so close to the Tevinter border. A group of escaped slaves found us today, two men, a woman, and a small child.  The adults won’t give their names, but the child is a dear thing, cheerful, if too pale and tired, with the most unusual eyes._

Avexis choked, and looked at Cullen. “Read on,” he said, his voice tired. 

 

> _My Keeper once told me such as these have nowhere else to go but to the Southern Alienage. They strain the Clan’s resources, until they learn to contribute, and every Keeper must decide for themselves if the investment is worth the cost.  This time… I’m not sure, but I’ve given them permission, for now.  There’s the child to consider.  The clan is angry at me for welcoming them.  And they are right – the slavers will come now.  We can’t afford to wait for Soria’s child to arrive.  He will be born on the road, as the rest of us were.  An ill omen, now, where I had such hopes._
> 
> _We head south now, to Orlais, as fast as we can manage. Soria’s been given a seat on the Aravels, for the duration of her confinement.  The child – Avexis, she is called – says she’s a good runner.  I hope she speaks true, for run we shall, for the lives of the least of us.  Her mother – still nameless, and I do not believe her father is one of the other men – weeps at night. Dalish lives are hard, but how much harder have theirs been?  Perhaps someday she will tell me._

Avexis raised her eyes to meet his. “A slave?  I was a slave?”

“Yes,” Cullen’s voice was hoarse. “Keep reading, Ladybird.  There’s more you need to know.”  He flipped a few pages forward, and pointed to a new entry, turning away to pace.

 

> _Creators preserve us all – the child is a mage. It’s too early – she couldn’t be more than six, judging by her stature – but she is a mage.  I caught her chatting with the Halla this morning – in a strange mixture of Tevene and sounds like nothing I’ve ever heard before.  And then she told me – wonder of wonders – that the calves had a rash caused by a vine nearby, and itched horribly._
> 
> _There is no doubt, now, why her mother fled with her. A pretty child like this, and now a mage?  I know the stories – she’d become some magister’s breeding slave, hoping that she’d pass down her abilities._
> 
> _But her abilities with the Halla – Sorcha has yet to name an apprentice. Ghilan’nain truly looks out for us, sending us this one.  And if Sorcha will not work with her – well, it won’t be the first time a First has been chosen from someone outside the clan.  Zathrain chose his First from such, after all.  She worked all the harder to earn it.  I will write to him, and see what he says._

Avexis’ hands tembled, threatening the page with tearing. “Cullen… I…” 

“You need to read all of it, love. Then we’ll talk.”  He leaned up against his bookcase, forehead creased, watching her.  He had never been so hard to read, but Avexis couldn't manage to make a joke about channeling this for the next time they played Wicked Grace.

The next entry’s handwriting was shaky, and strained. 

 

> _Creators. The child hears more than Halla.  Avexis came screaming to me today, crying about a dragon – a dragon, of all the things!  We turned southwest to follow the Halla.  At her warnings, they would go in no other direction.  Her mother cries yet more – I’ve done what I can to calm her and her mother’s anxiety, but she’s too small to understand, and I fear her mother’s mind is broken.  If only magic could cure everything._
> 
> _I fear for her destiny._

Avexis flipped the pages with dread-trembling fingers, mostly filled with news about the clan, and the birth of Soria’s child – a healthy boy – until – 

 

> _The slavers came today. We killed them – but at great cost.  Soria is dead – and I fear her child will die, too.  He’s too young to wean, and us with no other new mothers?  We will try him on Halla milk, and pray.  Please let his life be spared._
> 
> _They were there for Avexis. Poor child.  Her mother threw herself in front of her child, even as the child threw lightning at them.  It was an accident, I know – Avexis adored her mother, and took great care not to reveal her talents.  I had no idea her abilities were so strong.  But the men were prepared with swords as well as magic._
> 
> _Avexis has not slept or spoken since. She just stares into the fire, and rocks.  Her tears are silent.  Her grief is terrible to see, and she will not allow us to comfort her._
> 
> _I talked to Niall today. For her own safety, and ours, Avexis needs to be sent elsewhere.  The slavers will always come for such gifts.  I hate to do it – but she needs training.  My own skills lie elsewhere, and I haven’t the knowledge – or the connections – to see it done properly.  This child is fated for great things.  I’ve never heard of someone who can talk to dragons outside ancient tales – and they are obviously not as extinct as the humans have always claimed._
> 
> _I’m sending her to the largest Circle in Val Royeaux. Montsimmard is closer, but a small circle won’t know what to do with her.  The White Spire has ages of lost knowledge – they will know.  With luck, Avexis will be treasured there.  Her and a hunter will travel faster than all of us together, and the Templars serve one use, at least – the slavers can’t reach her beyond the Circle’s walls._
> 
> _Creators, let this be the right choice for Avexis, for all of us. I will not sleep well, knowing what I do._

“There’s nothing else,” Cullen stammered, meeting her eyes, “Except a note that Niall returned, safe, with news that the White Spire had taken you in, without letting him explain about your gifts - and another note about Frenic, inquiring about a slave child that Clan Lavellan had taken in, stating that he had heard of her from this Keeper Zathrian, some years later.”

Avexis dropped the book with a thump on his desk, and stepped back, twice, wanting to put some distance between herself and the tome. “I’m a slave.”

“No, you are not a slave,” Cullen’s hand formed into a fist, and he strode forward from his bookcase, settling it on top of the book, as if trying to keep it closed. “You are the child of an escaped slave.”

“I killed my mother.” Avexis stared at his hand, tracing every taut line with her eyes.

“It was an accident. You were an untrained child.  You killed the slavers, and likely saved more lives than you took.”

“I committed murder at the age of six.” Avexis choked.  “Dorian will hate me… you know he doesn’t see slavery as inherently evil.  I’m someone’s property.”

Cullen barked a laugh, and stepped forward. “Dorian will do no such thing.  He’ll go into raptures at the thought of the research he can do.  What is it Bull says about dragons?”

“Taarsidath-an halsaam,” Avexis’ voice was dull, emotionless. Tranquil.

“That’s the phrase. Dorian feels that way about research.  He’ll be convinced that there are Tevene records about your abilities.  He’ll write to Maevaris – again – and she’ll send him two crates of reference materials which he will conveniently never return, even once he deems he no longer needs them.”  He stepped closer, and grasped her shoulders, and leaned his head against hers.  “This knowledge changes nothing.  You are unique.  You always have been.  Only now, you know that your mother gave her life to save yours.  And you know why you were sent to the Circle.  They wanted you safe.  They wanted you trained.  Even then, you were known to be special.”

Avexis raised her arms to wrap around his neck, slow, as if she feared he’d throw her away. “Cullen…”  He wrapped his arms tighter, nestling his face into her neck.

“You belong to no one,” he whispered in her ear. “Except those that you choose to give yourself to.”

“You?” she leaned back, to look up at him.

“If you like,” Cullen sounded almost shy, and then laughed, low. “Your name – it makes a great deal of sense, now.  Avexis – it’s very Tevene, isn’t it?”

Avexis shuddered. “I suppose it is.”  She pulled away, displeased at the reminder.  “I… I should go.”

Cullen shook his head and tightened his hands. “You’ve had a shock.  Let me send a runner to Josie – she can spare you for the rest of the day.”

“No rest for the wicked,” she took a breath, and winced. It hurt to breathe.  “Besides, work will keep me from thinking.  I… I need to be busy, right now.”  She stepped back.  “Use your runner – send him to Cassandra, and let her know that we’re leaving for the Avvar tomorrow.  I’ll do some of the preliminary scouting myself for our camps.”

“Avexis,” Cullen protested, following her to the door. “Are you running, again?”

“I need this, Commander,” she whispered, not looking at him. “I need time.”

“Ladybird, running away changes nothing. This news changes nothing.”

She turned to look back over her shoulder, and smiled. “For you, perhaps.  But for the rest of Thedas?”  She laughed, a little bitterly.  “How many allies will want to deal with an Inquisitor that was born a Tevinter slave?”  She shook her head.  “I love you.  But please – let me have my space right now.  And tell Josie.  There will be fall out from this revelation, and she’ll need to prepare.”  She shrugged, “I’m the lowest of the lowest caste of people, Cullen.”

“You’re the best of all of us.”

She smiled, and left. “It’s nice of you to say so, Hot Templar.”


	4. Hitting Hills and Dredging Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is barely nine a.m. here and my day already sucks. A visiting cat threw up all over my couch, I was up all night with a miserable headcold and earache, my husband's identity was confused with someone else who has a different middle name and birthday at the doctor's office, and I need to cheer myself up.
> 
> I'll probably post multiple chapters today in various fics because of this. Prepare yourselves.

Two weeks later, Avexis stood at the edge of a cliff, on the remains of a shaky hunting hide far up in the largest tree she’d ever seen in her life. Next to her a tripod of surveying equipment threatened to pitch over the side with every small movement – the shakiest of foundations for a possible camp.  “What am I doing here?  How did I get here?”

“You’re finding camps for the Inquisition troops,” Cassandra stated practically. “Josie thought treehouses would suit, given the terrain.”

“Better than hitting the hills until they forget they’re hills,” Dorian snarked. “Your Commander’s suggestions are-”

“They do it in Minrathous,” Avexis bit off. She didn’t want to think about Cullen.  Or Minrathous.

“Yes, but it requires either blood magic or the skills of an Senior Enchanter level Earth mage, backed by an entire Circle of other mages, and purchasing enough lyrium to support the entire city of Orzamaar for a year.” Dorian narrowed his eyes. “How in the world did you come by that knowledge, bella donna?”

“I know how to read, Dorian. You should know, you throw books at me like the Avvar throw goats.”  She’d brought a number of books about the Imperium with her, actually, hoping that a little information would prod something loose.

“I didn’t think you actually read any of them though…” Dorian’s eyes creased in concern. “You can’t think that I care about…”

“Yes,” Avexis hissed. “And no.  Drop it.”  The news had filtered through the entire Inquisition – all it took was one loose-lipped scout, just as she had feared.

“Bella, it matters not at all,” Dorian stated kindly. “I don’t blame your mother - you were too young to be sold away.  There are rules about such things.”

“Is there a black market?” Avexis snarled. “An underground for slaves that are too young for…”

Dorian blanched, “Well, yes, but…”

“Then my mother was right to flee!” Avexis planted the banner marker next to the surveying equipment, wedging it between half-rotted boards. The landing beneath them quivered with the impact. “They should all run away. Every last slave.  You’ve never been there, Altus.”  She hadn’t either, she knew.  Maybe if she could remember – remember anything… but she’d spent a few weeks trying, and only a few shady memories had surfaced.  And she wasn’t sure they were real.

Dorian’s brow furrowed, “I’ve never been a slave, but I’ve been imprisoned, Avexis. I’m not entirely without…” Avexis threw a small lightning bolt at him.  It grounded to the branch behind him, while she lowered herself down the rope ladder, escaping the conversation.

“You should probably just shut up,” Bull rumbled lowly. “You met Gatt, Dorian.  The stuff he told me – he wasn’t much older than Boss when we – I mean, the Qun – rescued him.”

“And then there’s that Fenris, right?” Sera piped up. “I mean – they etched him with lyrium, forgot everything.  You ‘Vints do some nasty shite.  Quizzy’s pretty - if you’re into elves.  I don’t like to think what could’ve happened, even if she wasn’t spooky.”

“We aren’t all…”

“Enough of you are,” Bull put his hand on Dorian’s shoulder. “And the ones that aren’t don’t wear signs that say, ‘I’m not an asshole.’  Let the Boss work through it.  Be there if she’s got questions.  You know she’ll have questions.  She just has to think of them first.”

“She’s my friend,” Dorian pressed his lips together. “That hasn’t changed just because we know where she came from…”

“Then be a friend and keep it shut,” Sera snarked, and swung down after her. “The good ones know when to close it.”

That night at camp, Dorian took a small booklet – left amongst his things by some unknown person, probably Cole - and opened it. Avexis watched him read for some time, his face growing more and more grave as he flipped the pages.  Then, he pulled out parchment and ink, and started writing, addressing the letter meticulously, folding it with precise creases, and approached the ravens.

“Not Silky,” Avexis called out as he reached for Cullen’s bird. “She’s reliable, but she’s brooding.  Eggs sometime next week.  We need to keep her close – unless we can guarantee that she’ll make it back to Skyhold.  And I assume that letter is going to your homeland?”

“Our…” Dorian began to correct, but his face fell. “Bella donna, I didn’t mean…”

“I know. And I’m tired of getting myself snagged on this like a rashvine nettle on a looped rug,” Avexis sighed, and put away her knitting.  “You weren’t going to have her – Maevaris - ask about my… owner, were you?”

“Of course not,” Dorian snapped. “Credit me with a little sense.”

“Then what?”

“I was inquiring about your… talents.” Dorian flushed, and Avexis chalked one point up mentally to Cullen.  “It’s not unheard of for… voices to be heard.  The Chant of Light itself talks about the Old Gods whispering to the priest of Dumat…”

Avexis’ fingers tightened until the knuckles were white as bone on her knitting needles. It had haunted her… “It started as a whisper,” Avexis’ pupils dilated, the irises swallowed entirely, and her voice dropped.  “A whisper in the night.   Someone cried.  I thought it was a ghost.  The voice crept in, I heard it everywhere.  I was scared, and running in the dark.  She couldn’t hide me anymore.”

“Vashante Kaffas,” Dorian breathed, and grabbed her arm, hard. “You do remember.”

Avexis looked away, shallow breaths catching in her chest. “No…”

“Stop tormenting her!” Cassandra marched forward from the perimeters of the camp, eyes flashing with reflected firelight, two inches of her sword showing in its sheath.  “Quit making her remember!”

“I’m not…”

“He’s not making me do anything, Seeker,” Avexis panted. “I’m making myself.”  She met her friends’ eyes, shifting between them, desperate to justify herself.  “In the Fade, at Adamant, I had to remember to move forward.  This is no different, is it?”  She paused for a moment, and then continued, the words stalling on her tongue.  “I don’t remember the Dalish, but I remember being scared, and the voices haven’t changed in 25 years.  They’re still whispers, unless they’re close.”  She shivered.  “I’m not scared anymore.  I’m not a child.  I own my abilities, not the other way around.  They don’t get to rule me.”  She wrapped her coat around herself a little tighter, and hoped she sounded convincing enough for them both to leave her alone.

“That sounds…” Cassandra paused, searching for a word. “Wise.  I suppose.”  She frowned, “I don’t want the magister to cause you distress.”

Avexis closed her eyes, “Altus. He’s an Altus.  You don’t honestly think that Dorian would purposefully cause me harm, after all these months?  Seriously?”

Cassandra’s eyes darkened, “Solas abandoned you.”

“After I punched him. If I punched you, you would leave too.”

The Seeker snorted, “If you punched me, I would punch back. Harder.”

“I am not Solas,” Dorian huffed, and stroked his moustache. “I’m far superior to a shady apostate with more secrets than fashion sense.  And I have no intention of tracing my best and only friend’s history any further than has already been done.  It would be nearly impossible, in any case, as she seems to have been born into slavery.  Slave births are not recorded outside the household unless they are the recognized children of magisters – and our gorgeous girl obviously had both an elven father and mother.”  He looked regretful, “I’m sorry, if you wanted to know, bella donna.  Truly, I am.  But there’s no way to find out.  You could be anyone from anywhere, though if you fled on foot, I would bet on something closer to the border.  For that matter, you could even be from the Free Marches.” He sniffed, “The Marcher cities all like to pretend they don’t harbor slavers, but we import more slaves than we breed.  Otherwise, they are citizens, you see.  Free or Slave.”

“I’m a Tevinter citizen?” Avexis breathed, her left hand sparked, and she clutched it into a fist.

Dorian’s eyes glinted, “If we could prove you were born in the Empire.” He laughed, “That would be a coup.  But I refuse to try.  No, my dear, you are better off without country.  It makes you a far better Inquisitor, don’t you think? Independent.  Without obvious bias.”  He sighed, “Let me, however, look into the other matter.  In my opinion, it makes far more sense for someone like you to come out of Tevinter, than it does for you to spontaneously erupt into Orlais.  I wonder it didn’t occur to me before.”

“Why?”

Dorian snorted, “Because dragons, bella donna. I hate to shock you, but our home country’s history is rife with the things.  Horrible things, muddying up our mythology, stirring up our religions, and shitting on the carpets.  That’s not to mention the problems they cause when they encourage their priests to break into Golden Cities, turn into darkspawn, only to run amok and cause Blights when nobody wants them.  Nasty things, dragons.”  Avexis almost smiled.

“’Our country’? Dorian…”

Cassandra hummed, critically, “Dragons are everywhere these days. And you have no evidence that the voices Avexis heard as a child are related to the Old Gods, Dorian.  You are leaping to conclusions with little evidence.”

Dorian snorted, as elegant as always. “Ask Leliana about a woman named Calpurnia, Seeker.  Evidence or not, it’s certainly not unheard of.  There are other ‘Vints with the Inquisition, you know.  Inquire about a young man named Marius, if you like – he’s partnered with that Forsythia woman.  Tessa is a countrywoman of yours, isn’t she?”  He eyed the Seeker, eyebrows raised in mocking challenge. “I would think you’d approve of her.  I would nearly think it Nevarran tradition, to fly in the face of family approval.  I approve wholeheartedly.”

Cassandra’s disgusted noise echoed, as she shoved into her tent, muttering about doing just that. 

“Use Silky,” Avexis advised her. “I want to see her home safe, with enough time to make a nest.”  Her mouth twitched a little more.  “Assuming the Baron hasn’t already finished it.”

 

<DT>

 

Avexis caught the Seeker scowling at the letter with Leliana’s crest two days later. “Bad news?”

“Not for Dorian.” Cassandra’s lips twisted, and Avexis feared for the parchment in her hands.  “The mage will be insufferable.”

“Oh, and here I thought that you were being ordered to Val Royeaux,” Avexis teased, “Lest you lose to Sister Nightingale.”

“It’s not a competition.” Cassandra grumbled, and curled her lip.

“So this… Calpurnia. She heard an Old God?”

“She heard something, certainly.” Cassandra bit off the words like biscotti.  “It seems she was a slave.  Her master trained her in only the most minimal way, when her talents emerged.  She taught herself to read, fought for an education…” Cassandra let the letter drop, and pinched the bridge of her nose.  “She didn’t hear an Old God.  She claims to have heard Corypheus.”

“And she fell in with the Venatori.” Avexis picked the letter off the ground, and skimmed it, brow furrowed.  “Well, shit.”

“Her master died. There doesn’t… seem to be much information on how, or whether he was connected to them as well.  He was a historian, without much interest in modern politics…”

“But one could hardly call Corypheus modern,” Avexis drawled.

“Precisely,” In any case, if non-Wardens can also hear Corypheus, then… yes, it is conceivable that you, in fact, as a child, heard one as well. You did hear the archdemon, after all.” Her lips pressed together tight, her scar flexing with the muscles beneath.  She looked older, tired, as she so rarely did.

Avexis raised an eyebrow. “Is the expression of pain about admitting that Dorian is right?  Or to admit that the Old Gods exist?”

“Anyone who has a brain knows that Old Gods exist,” Cassandra snapped. “There was a Blight a scarce ten years ago.  Have you forgotten?”

Avexis shuddered, “Hardly. But Urthemiel wasn’t imprisoned under Tevinter. I wouldn’t have been able to hear him, otherwise.  Probably.  I hope.”  She handed the letter back to Cassandra, who took it gingerly, as if the thing would bite her.  “But what if – what if it’s not the Old Gods calling, as much as it is their priests?”  She made a face, “That makes no sense, and contradicts the Chant, besides.”

“There are two Old Gods left,” Cassandra stuffed the letter into her bag, out of sight. “You should write to Weisshaupt, you know, and mention this to them.”

“No, thank you,” Avexis sighed, and shivered. “I have no desire to be recruited into the Wardens, if I’m suddenly deemed necessary to their cause.”  She backed away, towards the fire, rubbing her arms under her thick coat.  “I know too many of their secrets already.  If it is the priests who are responsible for the Calling, and not the dragons – but I can hear the archdemons-” she shook her head, “They are too short on senior leadership.  Someone might think I have too much experience.”

“You think they would conscript…” Casssandra frowned at her bag. “Yes, I can see that they might.  We will be discreet in our inquiries, then.”

“I would hope so,” Avexis murmured, curling up next to the blaze, and holding out her hands, still encased in knitted gloves. “When you write to Cullen, let him know our fears.”

“Why would I…” Cassandra narrowed her eyes. “Have you written to the Commander lately?”

Avexis dropped her eyes, “I wanted a clear mind…”

“Leliana said as much. She said he was haunting the rookery,” the Seeker sighed.  “He misses you, Avexis.  You should be better about… Damn you for a fool, Avexis, you both deserve better than this doubt.”

“He does,” she whispered. “It’s just… who I am changes so often.  What if he can’t keep up?  What if he doesn’t want to?”

Cassandra snorted, dismissive, “Are you really worried about him keeping up? It’s you, Avexis, that he loves, not the Inquisitor, or the mage, or the hundred other masks you wear.”

 Avexis’ smile twisted.  “I hope so.  I just… distance makes the heart grow fonder, isn’t that the phrase?”

Cassandra coughed, “Is it working for you?” 

She closed her eyes, “Yes.” She would never admit it aloud, but her first thought in the morning was him.  Her last thought before sleeping was of him, and it was taking more effort than she wanted to keep herself from seeking him out in her dreams.

“According to Leliana, who is usually reliable, it isn’t working as well for him. Or her, as he’s about to drive her mad with his insistence on checking every single raven for a letter from you, no matter who it might be addressed to.  “Agitated’, is the word she used.  Write to him already.  It’s not going to get easier.”

Her lips twitched, but her eyes opened, sparking with humor. “I hate it when you’re right.”

“I know,” the Seeker’s tone was drier than the dirt beneath them. “Deal with it.”

Avexis’ lips curled upwards, slowly. “Have you written to Rylen?”

“Yes. And it is none of your business.”  Cassandra colored.  “The Knight-Captain is being sent with the next group of troops.  If you had written to your Commander, or read his dispatches yourself rather than counting on your officers to feed you the necessary information, no doubt you would already know.  If you’re so curious about – things - ask Rylen himself.  I’m sure he has his own, more colorful version of – whatever we’re doing.”

“But what will you and I talk about if we aren’t butting in to each other’s love lives?” Avexis laid her head on her knees.  “We could gossip about Bull and Dorian.  They have it coming, don’t you think?”

Cassandra smile was wicked and as sharp as the weapon on her hip. “They certainly do.”


	5. Weird Wards and New Friends

“I don’t know,” Avexis stopped to pant, laughing at herself. She’d only been out of the field for a few weeks, but these hills were testing her level of fitness.  “Hitting the hills until they forget they’re hills sounds promising, right about now.  I think my Commander had a stroke of genius.”

Dorian drew up next to her, wheezing and sneezing. “I think I’m allergic.”

“To the hills?”

“To the flora.  It might be the Northern Prickleweed.  Strange to see it so far south.” Bull whipped out a handkerchief and handed it to the smaller man. “Thank you, Bull.”

“Least I can do.” His hand lingered on the smaller man’s back.  “Keep it.”  Dorian managed a wisp of a smile before tucking it away.  “Where to, Boss?”

Avexis straightened, and surveyed the land. “The ruins are that way, but the map says that the Augur’s apprentice is that way.”  She frowned, “I admit to curiosity.  I’ve never heard of such an unorthodox way of teaching before.”

“Dangerous,” Cassandra warned.

“The Augur seemed positive they could banish the spirit when they were done,” Avexis mused, and then shrugged. “They’ve been doing it this way for a long time, Cassandra **.** I doubt she’s in any immediate danger, so we can go either way.”

“I don’t care which we go, as long it’s downhill, and preferably away from all the bedamned molting grasses.” Dorian sniffed, and collapsed in a heap, messing with his canteen of water. “How one can be so hot when the weather is so cold…”

“It’s not even full winter yet,” Cassandra criticized.

Dorian shuddered. “Sometimes I miss my homeland a great deal.  Fuzzy throws, roaring fires in the coolest temps, a touch of brandy to fortify yourself against the chill… steam baths and saunas, followed by brisk dips into the cold baths...”

“Sounds like Ferelden,” Avexis teased.

“Don’t be insulting,” Dorian tipped his nose up. “Our coolest temperatures are warmer than Ferelden’s summer.”

“That’s downhill,” Sera pointed at a hollow log that crossed a ravine.

“Avvar abomination it is,” Avexis stepped towards the fallen tree, and climbed onto it, peeking over the edge in curiosity.

Dorian groaned. “Avexis, please. Be careful.  I don’t wish to explain to the Commander how you died by falling into a ravine.”

Avexis, two steps out onto the log, pretended to slip. “Ooo, it’s high!”  Sera cackled.

“Children,” Cassandra grumbled. “I’m working with children.”

Sera giggled. “Pfffttttt.”

 

<DT>

 

The Augur’s apprentice, Sigrid, seemed a shy sort, her gaze flitting over all the companions in turn before returning to Avexis. “He’s my friend.  I didn’t want to go banishing him when he’s the only friend I…” the woman fiddled with a string in her hand.  “I didn’t want to be lonely.”  Her eyes softened, but she turned away, fumbling with a box of tools behind her, and drawing out something that looked like a strange hoe with a wickedly sharp edge.

Cole began muttering, and Avexis strained to hear his words, failing. But oddly, the former spirit spoke up, slow, and clear.  “It’s not corrupted.  They’re both – together.  Better together.  A spirit of learning.”

"Erudition?" Dorian's eyebrows shot up.  "Fascinating."

Avexis swallowed, “So… it’s safe?” 

“Until she tries to do something to counter its purpose, I suppose.  Unlikely, if she is willing to spend her whole life learning,” Dorian coughed, but Avexis couldn’t tell if it was meant as a warning or just his allergies continuing to act up.

Avexis glanced at Cassandra, knowing she risked the Seeker’s ire. “It has to be lonely out here.  The Hold won’t let you come back.  Will you make it through the winter alone?”

“I’ll do fine,” Sigrid waved the hand with the string behind her. “I’ve been planning all summer for this.  Dried fish strips and wild ram meat – got enough, and I’ll make stew to make it stretch.  Harvested wild onions and foraged for turnips, too, that will give it flavor and nutrition.  Water will be easy, as soon as it snows.  And if it doesn't, I can wield an axe well enough on the creek down the way.  There’s enough nugs around here, even in winter, to give me some variety.  The meat won't taste the best, but beggars can't be choosers.  And the dandelion wine will do well enough for cold nights.”  She shrugged, “I’ll miss cheese, but without milk, I can’t make any.  Not stupid enough to try to go milk a wild ewe.”

Avexis stifled a sudden surge of envy at how capable the woman was. “You do seem to have it all handled.  Except for company.”  She fidgeted, but she wouldn’t know unless she asked.  She very carefully avoided meeting Cassandra’s eyes.  “I don’t suppose after all your planning you’d be interested in joining the Inquisition?”

Sigrid dropped her hoe. “What did you just… me?  The way I am?  I don’t have to-”

“You don’t.” Avexis spoke firmly, and tried not to feel like she was making a huge mistake.  Cole would know - would say if she was.  “As long as the two of you stay in balance.”  She rushed on, “In fact, I have a personal need for more mages.  Two of my companions recently departed the Inquisition, and I-”

Sigrid laughed, bitter, “You’re having me on. Me?  Travel with the Inquisitor?”  She shook her head, “I’m an apprentice.  Likely to stay that way forever, too.  What use could I possibly be?”

“We could use someone familiar with the terrain. We’ve been climbing mountains instead of finding the easy paths.”

“And it never occurred to any of us to forage for things that would make Cassandra’s cooking taste better,” Varric wise-cracked. “Overall, most of us are new to the whole ‘wilderness’ thing.” 

“Speak for yourself, Varric.” Cassandra sounded more stunned than disapproving.

“I cook just fine,” Bull muttered. “Not my problem that none of you can handle flavor except Dorian.”

Sigrid pushed her fuzzy hood back, letting Avexis see her face fully for the first time. She was tanned, her brown eyes shy and wary, her hair pulled back in a complex braid to keep it out of her face.  “By the Lady, you’re serious.”

“I am.” Avexis held out her hand. “Join us, Sigrid.  Please.”

The woman hesitated for a long moment before taking her hand. “Come on in.  We’ll drink on it.”  Her lips spread in a smile more wide than beautiful.  “I knew there was a reason I made that berry cordial, despite all the time and trouble it took.”  She let Avexis’ hand go, and nodded once, pulling the knotted string back out of her pocket, and picking the last two knots apart. 

“What’s that?” Avexis nodded at it.

The woman’s eyes sparkled, “A precaution. Nothing more.  I wasn’t new hatched yesterday, Inquisitor.  You show up on my doorstep with a Seeker and,” her eyes cast towards Thom, “a few well-built warriors, and I’m going to be careful.”

Avexis glanced at Thom, hearing Varric stifle his amusement. “I’d like to learn these precautions you speak of.”  Cassandra sighed… loudly. “What?” Avexis said, giving a very Orlesian shrug of the shoulders. “They might come in useful.”

“It’s the most useful magic I know,” Sigrid agreed. “Most rituals take too long to use in an emergency or without warning.  And throwing fire can cause more problems than it solves – especially when you live in a wooden house.  Come on in.” She pushed the heavy door open.  “Sorry for the mess.  It’ll take me a few days to pack up.”

“Thom’s good at lifting heavy things,” Avexis volunteered, throwing her friend to the wolves.  Behind her, the warrior choked. She followed the other mage into her hut, noting with approval all the hanging herbs and medicinal plants hanging from the walls and ceiling – everything from braided ropes of onions and garlic to bouquets of dried Embrium and elfroot. “I’m sure I could spare him to give you a hand.  In fact, most of your stores would come in handy.  We’re expecting a lot of people to help with the Jaws.  Be nice if my team could leave the rations to the army.”

“It’ll be good to see them not go to waste, then,” the mage held out a wooden cup.

Avexis took it with a smile. “To new friends?” 

“To new - friends.”  The woman's smile was slight, but eager.

 

<DT>

 

“Did you want to learn or not?”

Avexis jerked her head up at the tone in her new companion’s voice, pulling her attention away from the sweater she was knitting. “Sigrid?  Is there something wrong?”

The woman was holding up several lengths of string. “The knot technique.  I mean, if it’s a good time?” Her voice had gone quieter.  “You were busy.  I – I’m sorry.”  Her cheeks flushed, her eyes hidden by her hood.

“Just keeping my hands occupied,” Avexis admitted, laying aside the garment. “I have some time.”  She eyed the string with interest.  “Especially for this.  I’ve never heard of a spell like this one."

Sigrid held out the string. “It’s not like you have to use mine.  Anything you can knot can be used in a pitch.  Rope to thread.”  She shrugged.  “But I keep several on hand.  It’s fast, and it’s hard to get sloppy with something this easy.  And rope – if it’s slippery – can unravel if you don’t get it tight.”

“Easy and fast is good,” Avexis took the length. “How does it work?”

Sigrid settled on the ground next to her, keeping her distance as if worried Avexis wouldn’t want to touch her. “The different knots hold different meanings.  You can use up to twelve before invalidating the spell.”

“Why twelve?”

“Why not?” Sigrid snickered.  “Get it, why ‘knot’?”

Avexis stared, and laughed. “You’ll fit in just fine.  What do the knots mean?”

Sigrid pointed to the first. “The first is for the world, the heavens, and everything in it.  Creation.  Life.”  She indicated the second.  “The second is for the gods.”  Her fingers slid down, “The third is for the Lady of the Skies.”

“She gets her own?”

“Shh. I’ll explain later.”  Sigrid’s eyes were soft, “The fourth is for the elements.  Fire, Water, Earth. Lightning, Spirit.”  She looked up, “You’d stop there, if you were just looking to boost your powers temporarily.  But don’t leave it for long.  You never leave an unfinished spell.  Finish what you start.”

“Always,” Avexis shuddered, and Sigrid moved on.

“Fifth is for the senses,” she smiled, bright. “If you’re looking for something, you really want to enforce this one.”

“That sounds useful.”

“Like I said, most useful magic I know,” Sigrid’s voice was excited. “And now it gets interesting.  The Sixth is for harmony.  Balance in all things.”  Her eyes darted out to Thom, who was pretending not to listen while carving a stick by the campfire.  “Also useful for love.  And sex.”  His knife slipped on the stick.  Sigrid giggled, and refocused on the string.  "Makes it fun."  Bull snorted from his place across the flames.

"Knots, huh?  Dorian know about this?"  He winked, probably, at the woman.  "Might need a few pointers."

Avexis blew out breath, “Does its multiple meanings have to do with six being a multiple of three?”

Sigrid weighed her with approval. “You catch on quick.”

“Seven?”

“For the stars,” Sigrid indicated the skies. “The brightest ones.  Eight is for special feasts – the solstices, Wintersend.  You know the ones.  It invokes the cycle of the year to determine the correct timing for the solution you seek.  Your answer might not come until the proper time.  And then nine – that’s the usual ending of the spell.  Three times three, to invoke the Lady.”  She smiled.  “I suppose you’d probably call upon Andraste, Herald?”

Avexis bit her lip, “I suppose. It’s funny – but Circle mages don’t call upon the Maker in their magic.”

Sigrid recoiled, “That’s just weird.”

“It is, rather, considering how common it is for the Avvar to do exactly the opposite.” Avexis tilted her head to see her better.  “Sigrid, you said that you could use up to twelve.”

“Twelve’s lucky.” Sigrid agreed.  “But strong.  Set it aside for emergencies.  The chant ends with nine.”

“What’s the ritual?”

Sigrid took a new string out, and made the first knot. “By the knot of one, the spell is begun.”  Her deft fingers made another, bulging out precisely a little further down.  “By the knot of two, my words are true.”  She closed her eyes, her fingers moving as she spoke.  “By the knot of three, it comes to me.  By the knot of four, the spell is strengthened more.”

Avexis could feel the power emanating off her, quivering with potential.

Still the Avvar woman spoke, “By the knot of five, may the spell come alive. By the knot of six, the spell is fixed.  By the knot of seven may the power through me be given.”  The thread glowed eerily, and Avexis noted that Thom was staring over the fire.  Not at the spell, but at Sigrid.  She hid her smile.  “By the knot of eight, may the power within be great.”

She stopped breathing, feeling the Fade bend around them, concentrated on the string. “By the knot of nine, may the thing I wish be mine.”  She rushed the last words, containing the power and focus with what seemed like difficulty.  “In the Name of the Lady, the spell is cast.  So Mote It Be.”

The thread flashed and Sigrid slumped in relief. The glow dispersed and hovered on the outside of their camp, fading after a few seconds.

“What did you do?” Avexis whispered.

“Set camp wards,” she laughed. “Not very efficient power-wise.  But effective at keeping bogfishers away.  As well as other nasties.  You learn to do these things, when you live alone in a forest.”  She rolled her neck and it popped.  “It’s good, and it will hold as long as it needs to, unlike your glyphs.”  She took the string and draped it over the peak of Avexis’ tent.  “I’ll release it in the morning.  You look like you could use a good night’s sleep.”  She rose, and hips swaying, stalked past Thom on her way to her own accommodations.  “If anyone needs me, you know where I’ll be.”


	6. A Little Magic Between Friends

Mornings in the Frostbacks dawned bright – light bouncing off the hoary frost spiking up over everything metal, from their armor to the buckles on their saddlebags, like a demented blacksmith had had his way with them. As the sun rose, it tinted everything oddly harmonious shades of pastel blues and pinks.  Dagna and Bull would approve.

Avexis breathed deep, running through the Seeker meditations like Cassandra had taught her - not so long ago, really. Anymore she couldn’t imagine a day in the field starting without them.  She grounded and centered, spreading her awareness through everything around her, including the wards, enjoying the way they pinged as she prodded.  Almost musical.  The river tinkled in the background, birds squawked, fish jumped - a symphony of nature all around her, even in the cold of not-quite-winter.

All in all, she liked the river camp the best, despite its exposed location and limited amenities – outside of convenient running water. Far superior to the treehouses. Treehouses led to thoughts of Cullen, and his meticulous plans, detailed down to the placement of the blacksmithing equipment, to make them functional and practical for her and her army’s use.

She lost her focus, and her enjoyment in the brisk morning, and she ended the meditation, wishing she could have held onto the moment of wonder for just a touch longer.

She should write to him. She wanted to write to him.

“What was that?” Sigrid was awake, apparently, and stirring something in a large pot that smelled way better than last night’s frozen leftovers, while frying something next to the pot on a well-seasoned iron skillet.  Avexis’ appetite awoke in an instant.  “Felt the wards and the gods go silly, like they were being tickled,” she clarified, looking away as if embarrassed.  “Didn’t feel like wildlife.”

“That was a Seeker meditation Cassandra taught to me. Your wards made music when I touched them.”  She sniffed.  “What smells like mint?”

“Woke up early, thought I’d throw out last night’s swill and start fresh,” the woman smiled craftily. “It’s just porridge with spruce tip syrup for sweetening.  A few of your fancy spices tossed in, and some fried nug meat and we’re set for breakfast.  Ten minutes and we’re done.  Hope you’re hungry?”

“Um, about the nug,” Avexis cleared her throat, “You didn’t happen to just find one hanging around here, did you?” 

“What?” Sigrid frowned. “No.  This came with me.  Salted and stored.”

Avexis relaxed. “Oh, good.  Um, I might have ‘liberated’ one from your butcher’s shop when he was out brewing mead, and… neglected to pay for it.”

Sigrid stared at her, and started to laugh, bending over double, “Oh, that serves that Torsen right. Always abandoning his shop to whip up something that will leave him more hung over than the day before.  Losing a nug won’t break him of bad habits, Inquisitor.”

Avexis relaxed, “Yes, well, that is a relief, but… I didn’t count on the nug following me home. I don’t have the slightest idea what to do with it.  The Inquisition’s spymaster raises them as pets… but I’m not really a pet person.” 

“That’s odd,” Sigrid eyed her sideways, and stirred the porridge again. “The gods tell me that you talk to them all the time.  Whispers about bears, and all sorts of funny stories.”

Avexis flushed. “Well, yes, but they aren’t pets.  I don’t own any of them.  It’s like your hold, with Storvacker.  You don’t keep them, you just...”

“Not my hold,” Sigrid corrected firmly. “I’m holdless.”

“On the contrary,” Avexis smiled. “You belong to Skyhold now.”

“Hmmm,” the woman managed, non-committal. “We’ll see about that.”  She nodded at the food.  “Now that we’ve determined that I haven’t fried up your hold-beast,” her mouth twitched, “time to eat?”

“You’re a treasure,” Dorian called out from his tent. “I don’t even like nug, and that smells divine.” 

“She’s more than a treasure,” Thom rumbled, and emerged, bare-chested. Avexis heard Sigrid’s sighs of appreciation.  “I’m going for a quick wash, and then I’ll eat your share, Dorian.  I haven’t smelled something that good for decades, I swear.”

Varric stuck his tousled head out of his tent, shuddering in the cold, “You’re going to bathe. In the frigid creek?”  His eyebrows lifted.  “Looking to impress, Hero?”

“Icy water’s better than nothing,” His beard bent up around his lips. He carefully did not look at Sigrid.  “We aren’t all as naturally pretty as you, Varric.”  He scratched under his beard.  “I’ve been thinking maybe I should shave.  The beard’s served its purpose, after all.  Might be time to let it go.”

“NO!” The words burst out of the Avvar woman, more emphatic than they’d heard her yet, and surprised, the others turned to her.  “That would be a waste of a good beard.”  Her cheeks were bright red as she stirred the pot a little faster.  “And it’s winter.  It will keep your face warm.  Shave in spring, if you must.  This is ready, if you’re eating.”

“My thanks, milady.”

Varric groaned, “For the Maker’s sake, not another one.” He retreated back into his tent.  “Just when things started to get sorted out.  First Curly and Ladybird, then-” his words broke off, and the sides of the tent shook violently as he, presumably, got himself sorted for the day.

“I’d be happy to eat,” Avexis made her way to the armor stand, brushed off the frost with her gloved hands, and threw on her frigid armor as quickly as possible, warming it with a touch of magic to keep herself from going into shock. After strapping on her greaves, she stretched high.  Ingrid was still staring at the porridge with a critical eye, but the nug meat was piled in a high stack to one side, keeping warm over her makeshift grill.  She grabbed her bowl and spoon out of her saddlebags, and approached eagerly.

Sigrid met her eyes frankly over the porridge pot, and dished her a generous helping. “Teach me.”

Avexis blinked, and grabbed the bowl she offered. Fragrant steam rose and she dug in, hoping to warm her insides with the hot food, before answering.  “Teach you what?”

“Circle magic. Whatever you did this morning, for starters.  It looked – peaceful.”  Sigrid snorted, cheeks flushed with the fire.  “Getting kicked out of the only place you’ve ever known because you won’t give up the only friend you’ve ever had – it messes with your head.  And I bet you’re all sorts of learned, with your fancy education.  I’m still an apprentice, strictly speaking, and I always want to learn.  Teach me.”

Dorian popped his already impeccably groomed moustache out of his and Bull’s tent. “Our Avexis?  Learned?”

“I’d be happy to,” Avexis interrupted, glaring at him. “In return for you teaching me more about the ways the Avvar do things.  Seems like it would be useful to know, since we’re hunting down Hakkon.  If your gods are spirits, I need to understand them better.  And your Augur could only tell me so much.” 

Sigrid looked up at her, surprised. “Just like that?  So easy?”

“Why not?” Avexis sat down on the log across from her, and took another bite.  “It’s not like Lowlander mages are sworn to secrecy.  The original point of the Circles was to educate and preserve knowledge.  I’m happy to share what I know.”

“What she knows is miniscule and biased,” Dorian announced, emerging fully dressed and coifed like some god of beauty from his sleeping accommodation. “I will have to watch every word to make sure she doesn’t lead you astray with her limited understanding.”

Sigrid snickered to Avexis, nodding her chin upwards at the dandy mage. “On the other hand, you could start with what magic he’s using to look like that.  Doesn’t he realize we’re camping?  And why does he go about half-dressed and then constantly complain about being cold?”

“Complaints are his hobby. As for his appearance, I think it’s some sort of innate natural ability,” Avexis murmured back.  “If not, it’s blood magic.” 

Sigrid choked, and then laughed, handing her a plate of nug meat. “Good one, Inquisitor.”

“I was only half kidding,” Avexis warned her, and then buried her face in the thinly sliced meat.

They were on their way by midmorning, hunting over the hills and to the valley where the huntmaster had last seen the bear when Avexis stopped. “Sigrid,” she paused.  “Your Augur says he is the ambassador to the gods?  Through Storvacker?”

“Something like that,” Sigrid stopped as well, hunched over from her place in the lead.

“Can he talk to any animals?”

Sigrid coughed, “Not as such. You’ve gathered that some animals are fade-touched, thanks to your gift to Finn.  The gods have touched them, making them special.  But that doesn’t mean that they are gods, like Storvacker.”

“Is she like Lord Woolsey?” Avexis breathed, inspired.

“Who?”

“A ram that we met in Redcliffe.”

Sigrid perked up her head. “Helsdim used to talk about Redcliffe.  He’s seen the world, he has.  Even been to Val Royeaux.”  Her eyes were eager.  “He tells the best stories, about gates made of the Sun, and a lake so smooth they named it after a mirror.  He’s been all over Orlais, and to a few places in Ferelden.  The largest one was called… South Reach?  Not so exciting as Val Royeaux.”

Avexis choked. “South Reach?  My… my Commander’s family lives there.”  She willed her cheeks to stop flushing.  “I’ve never met them, but he speaks of them fairly often.”

“It sounds like a nice place,” Sigrid began to walk again. “But back to your Lord What-sit?”

“Woolsey,” Avexis corrected. “He was the… hold-beast, of a sort, to a single family in Redcliffe.  They said they owed their prosperity to him.”

“Imagine Lowlanders having hold-beasts,” Sigrid snorted. “And a ram, of all things?  I would have thought that they’d be a nug, like yours.  Or a Mabari, of course.”

“The nug is not my hold-beast. If anything it’s our spymaster’s.  Do you have Mabari?”

“We have hunting dogs,” she shrugged, “No one in Stonebear had a Mabari, not when I left, anyway. But I’ve heard of a few Avvar bonded to them.  I don’t think the Mabari had been god-touched, though.  Not like Storvacker.”  She stopped again.  “Did Thane Sun-hair tell you that he’s not… tame?”

“I asked if he was dangerous, because I…” Avexis cleared her throat again. “I have a mixed history with bears.  When they aren’t being driven mad by rifts, you might say I have a… way with them?”

“She becomes one, on her bad days,” Varric volunteered from directly behind her. Somehow, despite them constantly climbing up the hills, and then sliding down the hills, he was managing to scribble down notes – always within arms-length of her.  Avexis was afraid to ask – afraid she already knew what he was writing down so diligently.  “Or her good days.  Which is it, Ladybird?”

Sigrid flinched at the nickname, “Lady bird? Do you follow the Lady of the Skies after all?”

“Um, no,” Avexis stammered, “It’s a bug, actually. Un coccinelle, in Orlesian.”  Her face heated, and she took the opportunity to wrap her scarf around her a little closer.  “I can shapeshift, though.”

“Tyrdda’s Tits,” Sigrid stopped walking. “Can you teach me?”

“I… don’t know.” Avexis shrugged, “I haven’t been doing it very long.  My… teacher told me I had natural ability.  Her last student,” she allowed herself a moment of pride, remembering that Morrigan’s last pupil had been Neria Surana, “her last student struggled more.”  She wondered, idly, if Morrigan had left Skyhold already.

She had told her she would leave once their purpose was fulfilled.  It shouldn't - hurt, knowing that she had probably left without saying good-bye.

“And you didn’t?”

“It was easy to become a raven,” Avexis smiled, remembering. “It took a lot of energy to be a bear.  I don’t do it often.”

“Do it now!” Avexis recoiled, and Sigrid shrunk back.  “I’m sorry, I was just… curious.”

“I know,” she sighed. “Point me in the direction of Storvacker’s valley, and I’ll do some aerial reconnaissance, then.”

Sigrid pointed with a shaking finger, east, and rolling her neck, Avexis concentrated, and… let go, launching herself into the air. “Lady be praised,” she heard as she flapped, searching for a wind current to take her in the right direction, and tilted when she found one.

“That’s nothing,” Bull quipped, as Avexis disappeared over the trees. “You should see her become a dragon.”  He waggled his eyebrow suggestively.  “Fucking hot.”  Dorian hit him deliberately, but he just absentmindedly rubbed the spot.  “Think she’s okay on her own?”

“A dragon.” Sigrid’s voice dripped with disbelief.  “You expect me to believe that?”

“Oh, it’s true, Knots,” Varric piped up cheerfully. “All golden, with purple eyes.  Just wait until you see it.  Seeing is believing.”

 

<DT>

 

Sigrid slid into their group like a hand into a glove. A quiet woman, prone to watching instead of speaking, she was at first noticed mainly through how much easier certain things became with her presence.  Meals became tastier – and Avexis found herself putting on weight even with the constant exercise and frigid temperatures.  She began to join her for her morning meditations, and soon, much to Avexis’ surprise, they were harmonizing their exploratory pings on the wards she placed on their camp every evening.

Avexis watched her laughing over knots with Bull, giggling at the erotic way he used his skills, and showing Dorian a few lesser known tricks that might surprise – and tantalize – the Tal’Vashoth, given a little more privacy and some better space. She made herself distant for those lessons – she couldn’t imagine either herself or Cullen ever wanting to experiment with bondage, given their pasts.

Sigrid was a gentle instructor, as well, up until the point where Avexis mixed up her phrasing on the knot spell the first time she tried to set the wards herself. “No!” The woman snatched back the string, and finished it quickly, muttering the words under her breath, waiting the result, and then immediately picking it apart to release the power.  “You were trying to summon something – big.  We don’t need to attact something massive just to guard the camp.”  Her eyes narrowed at Avexis’ hand.  “May I?”

Avexis sighed, and, her thumb rubbing across her nearly always stinging palm, laid it in Sigrid’s rough hands.

“This is a direct connection to the Fade?” Sigrid’s eyes widened.  “No wonder.”  Her lips pressed together, and she let go of the hand.  “You… you should try knitting the knots,” she advised.  “Use a tool, rather than your fingers.  I don’t think you should let your mark come into contact with the string.  Too much power, and you’ll have a god prowling the edges of our camp every night, bound to us.”  Her eyes were worried.

“That would be…”

“Disastrous,” the woman hummed, already regaining her composure. “But on the other hand, if you were to use that as a curse…” she laughed.  “Or if you wanted to tie a man to your side for a time… you already have the power for that,” her mouth twisted wryly.  “So… tell me, do you – look to any of your men?”

“Look to?” Avexis frowned, unfamiliar with the phrase. “They’re all my friends.”

“No, not like that.” She glanced behind her. “I notice that you tend to share a tent with the Seeker.  Are you lovers?”

“No,” Avexis had a flash of understanding. “She’s… she looks to – Knight Captain Rylen.  He should be back at the main camp eventually.”  Sigrid rummaged through her bag, presumably looking for a tool.  “And I… no.  I don’t sleep with my friends.  I’m-” she flushed.

“She’s involved with her Commander back at Skyhold.” Cassandra announced flatly from directly behind her head.

“Yes, thank you, Cassandra, for eavesdropping and answering for me.”

“Winter’s a bad time to be sleeping alone,” Sigrid sighed. “You must be lonely.  And cold.”

“Yes, rather.” Avexis swallowed, and then laughed. “So… you and Thom, maybe?”

Sigrid’s eyes narrowed, “If he wanted to.” An eyebrow raised.  “It’s different, in the lowlands, isn’t it?  When you want to share someone’s bedroll?”

“It can’t be that different,” Cassandra coughed, and sat down, deliberately. “How do the Avvar handle this?”  Her cheeks were mottled, Avexis would wager with excitement.  “We’ve heard stories, about women being carried off as brides.”

Sigrid looked wistful, “Not without their permission, in most cases.” She sighed, and shrugged, “But… yes.  The relationship usually starts long before that.  She plucked a knitting needle from Avexis’ bag, and drew in the dirt with it, a single circle, and then another.  “One person meets another.  They… get to know each other.  In and out of the bedroll.  Most relationships stop there.  The Augur makes a point of having their families meet, if they look to be serious, and then they try to agree on terms.  If it works out, and the families don’t act like a bucking gurgut about the details, then the warrior takes the bride, at a pre-agreed upon time and place.  If the families don’t agree, sometimes it happens anyway, if they want it bad enough.  It’s not a surprise.  And when it happens without permission, the bride has… ways to limit her time.”  She frowned.  “She can tie bad knots, make them slip free, sing too quickly in the rite.  And if that’s happening, the Thane will interfere.”

“Sing?” Cassandra leaned forward on her elbows.  “Knots?”

“Marriages don’t last forever.” Sigrid sighed.  “A knot for every cycle of four seasons.”  Her eyes twinkled, and she nudged Avexis.  “I did tell you six was for sex and love, didn’t I?  Most women try to stop there – because it means Rilla has time to bless the union, and the sex will be strong.  But if a woman is fast with her knots and confident in her man, she’ll go for nine.  No one ever gets to twelve.”

“You did say something of the sort,” Avexis, fascinated, couldn’t stop herself from asking. “Did you have someone?  Before you had to leave the Hold?”

“No,” Sigrid closed down immediately. “No, no one would have the Augur’s apprentice.”  She glanced across the fire, at where Thom was rubbing down the horses, and pretending not to listen.  “Not for more than a night, anyway.”  She shrugged, “I bring the eyes of the gods with me.  Most people are… uncomfortable with that.”  She smiled, and admitted, “I imagine you understand, the way you burn Fire-bright on the other side.  The gods always look to you.  See you.  You’re like… an Augur times twenty.  They gossip about you constantly, the busybodies.”

Cassandra sputtered, and Avexis fought the urge to look over her shoulder. “Really?  About me?”

“They’re like old men, cackling over their pipes,” Sigrid sounded slightly disgusted. “The stories they tell, about the way you and Dorian bent time like a willowbranch in Redcliffe… and they say you’ve been to visit the other side.”

“It’s true,” Somehow Avexis wasn’t surprised that Dorian had been listening, as he settled himself next to them. “It seems I am a subject of gossip on both sides of the Veil.”  He sighed exaggeratedly, but with a half smile on the edges of his lips.

“They say you like to put on a show,” Sigrid blurted at him. “That you could take about half the energy to cast that you do, but that flashy gives you attention.”

Dorian preened. “What’s not to enjoy?”  Avexis shoved him sideways.  “Oh please,” he purred, “As if you aren’t grateful.  If I weren’t this flashy, half the time you’d be flat on your back the minute we met a Red Templar, my dear.  I do draw all eyes to me.”

“She didn’t say it wasn’t on purpose,” Avexis rolled her eyes. “Did you have something to add to the lesson, Dorian?”

“I wasn’t aware that it was still a lesson, since you were all giggling over men. I thought I’d join you in sighing over soldier boys,” Dorian smirked.  “I don’t suppose you’ve written your Commander lately, Avexis?”

“Not recently,” Avexis bit off the words. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

“It is when I can hear you calling his name from the tent next door.” Dorian gasped, “Cull-en.  Oh, Cull-”

Avexis shoved him over, hard enough that he slipped off the log. “Cul.  I’m probably cussing at you in my sleep.”

“Hey, keep it polite,” Bull’s hand inserted itself between their little group, and lifted his man to his feet effortlessly. “That’s not even an insult, with as perfect as his ass is.”

“I hope I never find out,” Cassandra drawled, and Sigrid sniggered into her hand.


	7. Swamps, Bears, and Cubs with Mange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A slightly less dismal Monday to all of you.
> 
> Iduna and I are changing our update day on this fic to Monday - to better fit my schedule right now, and give us a pick-me-up to start out the week.
> 
> The formatting in this chapter gave me headaches, so if anyone sees anything that should be italicized and isn't, or vice versa, I would appreciate a heads up.

They found Storvacker the next day – after fighting their way through the spookiest swamp that Avexis had ever had the privilege of wading through.  “Which is worst – the Fallow Mire or this place?”  She called back to her companions. 

“This place. A whole hold aiding and abetting blood mages,” Cassandra called, as she unhooked one of the creepy little cages the Jaws had suspended from a branch far above them all.  “It’s despicable.” 

“The Fallow Mire,” Dorian contradicted, with a curled lip. “The undead.  The weather.  That _smell.”_ He shuddered.  “Mind you, I’m not fond of how thin the Veil is here, either.”

Cole watched the trees. “The trees are moving.  Very slowly.”  He frowned.  “Here is worse.  The other people didn’t want to be dead.  The ones here do.”

Sera shuddered, “That’s it, I’m done with this shite.” She hunched up her shoulders.  “This place has ‘em all beat.  Where’s this friggin bear, anyway?  Never had problems findin' bears before now.  Bloody things fall out of the sky, usually.” 

“I think I hear her,” Avexis admitted. There was a bloody furious animal ahead of them anyway, and it was as articulate as bears get. 

_Lemme out. Lemme out of here.  I’m gonna sink my claws into your back so far you’ll see them on the other side, you… you… mushrooms._

Time to verify the creature’s identity. Avexis coughed slightly, “Sigrid, does Storvacker like mushrooms?”

“Hates them.” Sigrid blinked.  “…Why?”

“That’ll be her, then.” Avexis sighed, then called to the rest of the party. “Found her!”

She took a deep breath and concentrated… _Storvacker, are you well?_

__Who is that? Who is there?!_ _

_I’m coming to let you out, so that you can… regain your honor._ Avexis thought that a rephrasing of the bear’s bloody desires might be more appropriate. _Will you promise not to hurt us?_

__Us?_ The bear panicked mentally.  _You’re not from the Hold. They can’t know I was a prisoner.  Should have died, shouldn’t have let myself…__

_It’s all right, they don’t know. I’m… a friend of the Hold.  The Inquisitor._

The bear’s tension melted away. __That’s all right then. Good.  I can’t go home yet, but… as long as they don’t know the worst of it until I tell them myself, it will be fine.__ Now the creature’s mental voice was sheepish.  __I should have known better. Was hungry.  Nearly sleeping time, you see.  I needed to sleep and eat.  Eat and sleep.  Then they made me sleep, I didn’t get to eat, and now I’m hangry. If I hadn’t slept, I wouldn’t have been locked up.  Would have made them kill me instead.__ The mental equivalent of a whine filled her head.  _ _So hungry.  Get me out of here.__

“What izzat noise?” Sera asked, tilting her head towards the nearby cliffs. “Cassandra, did that sound like…”

“Why are you asking me if that sounded like a bear?”

“Obvious, ain’t it? You’re the expert.  Punching and all that.”  Cassandra’s disgusted noise was muffled by the large trees and surrounding cliffs, and Avexis choked back her amusement in favor of finishing her conversation.

_I understand, and we’re nearly there._ _We’ve found you. We’re gonna let you out, to kill the Jaws. Do what you have to do.  After you get home, we’ll talk more._ A grunting sort of roar carried through the last twisted vestiges of the swamp. 

“That’s definitely a bear,” Bull swung down his axe. “We’ve got him, Boss.  Orders?”

Avexis looked at her friends. “Sigrid, Cole – get him out of there.  The rest of you – let Storvacker do her thing, and then kill anyone she doesn’t. Not one of them leaves alive.  Understand?” 

Sigrid smiled, and a last sentence threaded itself through Avexis’ head. _The Apprentice is here? She left. Why… why would she come for me?_

_I gave her a job. She belongs to my hold now._ Avexis swung down her staff, and shouted, _“Now!”_

When the fighting was over, a bloody Storvacker nosed Sigrid in the stomach, and the girl, half laughing, fell into the muck. “It’s good to see you, too.”

The bear turned, raised itself up on its paws and stared at Avexis solemnly, before falling back down and bending its head meekly. _I will go tell the Augur what happened. Please come and make me part of your hold, too._

_Why would I need…_ Avexis began.

_Sunhair will explain._ The bear wuffed irritably.  _Too tired. Too hungry.  Goodbye._ It turned and ambled away, her massive backside swishing slowly up the swamp.

“Winter makes her sleepy and slow. The Jaws picked the time she was most at risk, but still capable of moving herself,” Sigrid explained, sitting in the mud with one knee in the air, as if it was comfortable.  “We’re lucky they didn’t decide to kill her in her sleep.”  Thom cleared his throat and offered her a hand.  With a hesitant smile, she looked at her muck covered hand, and then shrugged, and took it, letting him help her up.  “I can’t go back with you to the hold, Inquisitor.  I’m not welcome there.” 

Avexis sighed, “That’s fine. I think… I think we’ll just take a small group back to talk with Sunhair.”  She looked up at the cliff.  “I wish we could scale this.”  She turned away.  “Back to the crossroads, then.  We’ll get there and split up – half back to the river camp and the other half to the hold.  Volunteers?”

“A crossroads suggests a level of civilization unheard of, out here,” Dorian sniffed. “I’m going back to camp.” 

 

<DT>

 

Two weeks later, Cullen made his way down to the courtyard, scowling. “I was told the Inquisitor sent a recruit,” he snapped at the runner that had come to fetch him from his office.  He’d been hoping when the unexpected runner dropped by that he had a letter from…

But that was no matter.

Did Avexis miss him at all? Letters hadn’t been thick, during the war, but they’d been steady.  She was still unsure about her written command of Common, then, and often waited until Varric could advise her.  But this was different… her letters had stopped entirely.

But he wasn’t thinking about that now. He was supposed to be pressing this runner about why a single recruit needed his personal attention, instead of one of his lieutenants.

“We do, Commander,” the man fidgeted, grating Cullen’s last nerves. “It’s just… not a normal recruit.” He fumbled in his pouch, and handed Cullen a letter, with writing that made his heart stab, and his eyes weaken.  “There was an explanation… for your eyes only, the Inquisitor claimed.” 

Cullen ripped it open, frantically, reading feverishly, his cheeks and neck heating up.

 

> _Dear Cullen,_
> 
> _Your recruit’s name is Storvacker, and she’s the Holdbeast from Stonebear Hold. Like many of us she has her honor to reclaim.  You are to treat her as you would any other recruit, while she overcomes her failure to her Hold.  She’s a fierce fighter.  You should spar against her sometime, even Cassandra admits she holds her own.  The only bear Cassandra hasn’t been able to punch._
> 
> _I miss you. More on that soon._
> 
> _Love,_
> 
> _Avexis_

 

 

Hold beast? What on earth?  But there was more, and Cullen shuffled the pieces, hoping for clarification, and… maybe something of a more personal nature.  

Behind Avexis’ short note was an attached sheet of parchment, with Rylen’s assessment of the recruit.

 

> _Commander,_
> 
> _Allow me to quote:_
> 
> _‘She is the hold-beast of Stone-Bear Hold. All other bears in the area are mere imitations._
> 
> _Storvacker. How do I even begin to explain Storvacker?_
> 
> _Storvacker is flawless._
> 
> _She has two ancient elven trees for claw sharpening and a silver honey dish._
> 
> _I hear that her claws are valued in Denerim at 10,000 sovereigns._
> 
> _I hear that she sells her shed fur to Orlesian master weavers in Val Royeaux._
> 
> _Her favorite story is ‘Hard in Hightown’._
> 
> _One time, she met Alistair Therein, fabled warrior of the Fifth Blight, and he told her she was pretty._
> 
> _One time, she clawed me in the face. It was amazing.’_
> 
> _The above is an excerpt from Ruminations upon the Avvar and Their Customs by Reginald de Gorge.  But all things considered, Commander, Storvacker is bloody fantastic.  Don’t worry, she’s in disgrace, so no silver honey dishes accompany her.  She needs to live the simple life until she’s paid her penance and can go home again, to her ancient elven scratching posts and waiting fans._
> 
> _I can feel you scowling from here. Commander, you’re going to love her.  Everyone loves Storvacker.  And let’s face it, after Avexis’ army of bears still fighting away in the Hinterlands, this was the next logical step.  Don’t look like that.  Your face will freeze that way._
> 
> _Give her a chance. She’ll do the Inquisition proud._
> 
> _Rylen_

 

Cullen looked up, trying very hard to relax the lines of his face into something that didn’t resemble a scowl. The runner recoiled anyway.  “Sir?”

“Where is she?” His jaw hurt from clenching.

A muffled thump came from behind the wagon in the courtyard, and the largest bear Cullen had ever seen waddled his way over, head bowed. “Attention, recruit!”  He snapped at her, feeling like the most massive fool in the Keep.

The bear lifted its head – and Maker, her eyes were intelligent, understanding. “I said attention!”

The bear rose to its hind legs, towering over Cullen. He fought not to take a step back, and it looked down his nose at him.  His mouth went dry, and he swallowed by reflex.  “We are the Inquisition,” he started his normal recruitment speech, and the bear tilted his head, as if confused.  It whuffed at him, and fell back to its four paws.  It walked forward, and then, once again, stood up, putting its front feet on his shoulders, and…

A long, rough tongue scraped itself over his coat and neck and cheek in… “This is highly inappropriate!” He was scared to take a step back, as the creature’s claws were no doubt longer than his whole hand. “I am your commanding officer, Recruit Storvacker.”

She whuffed again, and he desperately wished Avexis were here, to translate for him. And then he remembered the bears’ impression in the Hinterlands, and his eyes narrowed.  “You think I’m a cub with mange, don’t you?”

Storvacker grunted agreeably, altogether too pig-like, and kept… cleaning him. He managed not to shudder, but reached up a hand and tapped its foreleg.  “Enough of that, recruit.  You need a meal and a good night’s sleep.”  Belatedly, he remembered hibernation.  “Um… how long do you need to sleep?”

The bear fell back to the ground, and whuffed at him incomprehensibly.

“Avexis had better come home soon,” he told it, careless of the gaping runner. “I have half a mind to send you out to fight amongst your brethren in Ferelden.”

The bear bobbed its head once, crisp and sure, like a salute.

Cullen let out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “Come on, let’s find you a place to sleep,” he told her.  “It’ll be warmer by the kitchens, and you’ll be able to make your way through the gates easier that way.”

He had to admit, he rather enjoyed the way every single resident of Skyhold jumped out of the way of him and his companion. For once, no one stopped him to try to flirt – a common enough occurrence with the Inquisitor gone, as if he was ever someone to do such a thing – or to waste his valuable time with problems that were not his purview.

All in all, Rylen and Ladybird might be right.  Already, Storvacker was a handy person, er- bear, to have around.

“I’ve changed my mind,” he told her in the morning, when she appeared in his office for assignment. “You’re going to be my assistant.”  He smiled, all teeth.  “It’s no sinecure, recruit.  I’m a demanding taskmaster.  I’m going to run your paws ragged with my errands, and you’ll attend me personally during working hours.”  He let himself relax, just a little bit.  “I’m not pleasant to be around, right now.  But you - you are… intimidating.  I need someone to help me distance myself from the most annoying people around here.  Just until the Inquisitor returns.”

Storvacker tilted her head, and grumbled something.

“You’re not allowed to pick your assignments,” he reminded her. “I need you here, and you’ll serve where I’ll tell you to.”

The bear bowed her head, resigned.

“Good,” Cullen nodded, brisk and efficient. “Your first errand is this.”  With shaking hands, he lifted a collar, with a large pouch, and affixed it to Storvacker’s back.  “Take this to Ambassador Montilyet, and the second to the Spymaster.”  He eyed the bear’s bulk dubiously.  “On the other hand, leave them both with the Ambassador.  I don’t think you’ll fit up the stairs in the library.  Return here when you’re finished.  Dismissed.”

He bent back to his work, hearing the soft thudding footfalls of his new personal assistant pad along the bridge to the library, and the screams of servants upon being confronted with the creature.

“Josie may kill me, but it’s worth it,” he smirked. “Now, to work?”

It was an incredibly productive morning. It almost made up for the measly two lines of affection Avexis had provided.

Almost.


	8. Elven Inquisitors and their Lovers

“Somehow these are supposed to melt the ice?” Avexis surveyed the strange magical machines, frowning.  “Dorian – they’re Tevinter, right?”

“Yes,” Dorian didn’t look up from his book. “And I don’t have the slightest idea.  So don’t ask.”

“Lot of help you are,” she muttered.

“I am aware. Feel free to send me back to Skyhold to sit by a fire and drink mulled wine.”

Sigrid was prowling around, back by where the shrines were located. “Wait, there’s a torch thing.  Torches are fire, and fire melts ice…”

Avexis crawled back down to join her, and Bull, fascinated despite himself, took her place by the lever. Sure enough, there was a Veilfire torch, and she lit it, mostly as an experiment.  Sigrid lifted it out of its bracket, and slowly, carefully, made her way back towards the first machine, Avexis close behind.  With a spark, Sigrid’s machine lit up with a crackling of magic, and Avexis took a step backwards, Cassandra grabbing her when she almost slipped off the scaffold.

“Now, that’s something,” Bull admitted under his breath. “What now, Boss?”

“Sigrid, fire it,” Avexis ordered. “Pull the lever.”

The built up energy shot like one of Dalish’s ‘arrows’ towards their location, and Bull dropped off the scaffolding deliberately. “Too close for comfort, Boss.”

Avexis stepped forward, eyes narrowed, and pulled her own lever. With the grating sound of equipment not often used, it flared – and fired, connecting the next device on the hill just beyond where they stood.  “It’s a chain,” she breathed, exchanging excited glances with Sigrid and Bull.  “They connect all the way to the temple.  That ice – it couldn’t be melted because it’s not normal ice.  It’s…” she flushed, feeling stupid, but it was accurate, “it’s Veil-ice?”  She rushed to explain herself, “It makes sense – magic is about natural energies – if there is Veilfire, there would have to be Veil-ice.”  She swallowed, “There must be Veil-lightning, too…”  Glancing back at the blue-ish energy still available in the devices before them, “This would be what it looks like, I would think.”

Dorian choked, but recovered, tucking away his book in his beltpouch. “Onward, then, bella donna?”

“I guess it’s a good thing I wore my hiking boots,” Varric muttered, stretching. “We’ve seen those things all the way through the basin.”

Sera groaned, “This is gonna take sodding forever.”

“It’s taken 800 years,” Avexis smirked, “It’s not like it could be much worse.”

Bull groaned, “You had to say it. You couldn’t just let it go.”

“Yeah, thanks, Ladybird, for dooming us all to immediate demonstrations about how, in fact, it can get a whole lot worse.”

“You’re quite welcome, Varric.” Avexis set her jaw in grim determination, and waved her hand towards the next installation.  “Allons-y?”

 

<DT>

 

“He’s a bleeding elf!” Sera exclaimed, clearly disgusted with this turn of events.  Avexis sympathized with her confusion at this strange turn of events, if not in the expression of them.

They had melted the ages-old ice, and with the help of Stonebear hold, fought through the Jaws of Hakkon. Then, they traversed the coldest building Avexis had ever been in, and all that she could think about was that Ameridan was… no IS, an elf. Even the roaring of the Hakkon-dragon wasn’t nearly as overwhelming as the simple fact that the last Inquisitor was an elf.

Ameridan was an elf.

A _Dalish_ elf.

Not just a Dalish elf, but A Dalish elf _mage_.

A Dalish elf mage who happened to be the childhood friend of Emperor Kordillius Drakon. The good professor would be pleased. It verified his dearest theory about the dagger he’d found, while immediately laying waste to 90% of the Chantry’s teaching on the subject. That revelation was going to go over well.

She wondered, idly, just how her story would be told in 800 years. Would Cullen be remembered as the hypothetical lover that no one was sure even existed?  Would he be remembered at all, the Chantry erasing him in favor of remembering the Herald of Andraste as chaste and pure? Would her magic be erased from history as easily as her race?  Would she die, alone, with Cullen left behind, without pyre or prayers?

She cast a glance at Cassandra, who was just as stunned, albeit for a different reason. “But – you led the Seekers!”

Ameridan frowned, “In your time, do the mages not help the Seekers?” Avexis’ eyes closed with the latest revelation, like a dagger to the gut.

Maker, they had forgotten so much. Or was it erased on purpose? The mages helped the Seekers.  Tears welled up and she blinked them away, willing herself to remember this, if nothing else; That once upon a time, mages were not the enemy.  Mages weren’t good for only locking away and left to study their craft in isolation until needed to fight somebody else’s war.  They had helped police themselves, and the Templars...

She watched Cassandra’s mouth work helplessly for a moment before it firmed with determination. “No.  No, they do not.  Many things have been forgotten.  That will change.” 

Avexis just managed to refocus on the miracle of the 800-year-old man. “I have so many questions.  How did the mages help the Seekers?”  If things were going to change, they needed to know how to set them right again.  She had to _know._

“And I don’t have time to answer all of them.” Ameridan looked up from where he was kneeling.  “Hakkon will be released – even now it happens.  My armor is in the chest behind me.  Take it, use it.  Defeat Hakkon as I could not.”  His eyes were the only part of his body that reflected the passage of 800 years.

Avexis tried to put herself in his place. His lover was 800 years dead, and he was just now learning about it.  A spell that had been a last resort locked him away until the world had changed, perhaps irrevocably, for the worst.  All of that, and his best friend’s cause – a cause he had dedicated himself to completely – had failed. 

But she had so many questions, and he was the only one who could answer. “If you’re a mage, why the fuck did you have a sword in the first place?” Avexis blurted out, and winced.  Of all the questions she could have asked…

Ameridan groaned, “Is that heavy thing still floating around? Honestly, I thought I had lost it for good.  Ridiculous pomp, but Drakon would insist on a show to impress the masses.  And he had quite the habit of giving me weapons – some more useful than others.”  He paused, “Has he spread the Chant of Light to the four corners of the world yet?”

“No.” Avexis couldn’t meet his eyes, as she admitted Drakon’s final failure.  “Darkspawn came down from Tevinter.  He… he had to fight them back, stop the Blight.  His quest – his quest died with him.”

Ameridan sighed. “I knew it would not be as simple as his visions made it out.  Still, you, at least, endure.”  He rose, pushing himself up on his staff.  “I don’t have much time.”  His form began to dissolve.  “The magic could preserve me, as long as the spell lasted, but time reasserts itself.  This body should have been dust long ago.”

“Fascinating,” Dorian hissed. “What I wouldn’t give for Alexius’ lab instruments right now.”

“I’ll finish what you started, “Avexis assured him.

“We both will,” Cassandra’s lips were tight across her teeth. “Hakkon will die, I swear it.  And the mages and Seekers will help each other again.”  Avexis glanced at her, with all of Cassandra’s innate determination, she’d still never seen her so stubborn.

Ameridan nodded, “Recover my memories. They will guide you to what you need to know – about Hakkon, about the Inquisition, about Drakon.”  His body blurred as it dissolved, entirely too quickly.  “I will help you as I can.”  His energy released in streams of pale green – the same color as her mark.

This kept happening – why would the Inquisitor’s memories be the same Fade green as her own memories in the Fade? Magical color had to have some significance.  Why hadn’t anyone done an in-depth study?

As the ancient mage disappeared entirely, Avexis had to use her staff to prevent herself from falling to the ground in a heap. “Did that just happen?”

Cassandra grasped at her shoulder, pulling her upward. “The dragon!”  She hissed, yanking hard enough to hurt.  “We have to get out… we can’t fight it in such close quarters.”

A piercing scream – muffled before by the ice preserving the creature – inserted itself into Avexis brain with the force of a thousand daggers. “He’s very angry,” Cole whispered behind her. 

“I know, Cole,” She stumbled to her feet. “We have to stop him,” her voice shook.  “We must.” 

The High Dragon that was Hakkon landed before her, hissing her displeasure and confusion with the situation. _Who are you?_ She stared for a second, without attacking, and Avexis hunted for a reply. _Where is the mage?_ The air she puffed out towards her formed into ice crystals, breaking her barrier down in an instant. _What did he do?_

It didn’t wait for an answer, launching itself up and over their heads, leaving ice in its wake, and chilling them all to the bone. “We have to follow it!” Bull shouted.

“Not until we recover Ameridan’s memories,” Avexis yelled back, already running towards the brazier in the center of the temple. “We have to figure out what went wrong.  With everything!”  She lit it with a fireball, and turned back to her friends.  “We start here.”  She motioned towards the chest in the far corner.  Somebody grab Ameridan’s armor.”  She frowned, “The ritual must have given him a little time – if he managed to remove it and not die…” 

“Should have asked him about it when he was alive,” Dorian drawled lazily. “Lost chances, my dear.”

 

 

<DT>

 

That evening, they camped back at the research camp. Avexis didn’t bother to take out her knitting, instead staring at the blank page in front of her, trying to figure out what to write to Cullen.

Ameridan and his Lady had wasted time, or run out of time, she wasn’t sure which. Time was the one thing she didn’t have - Avexis couldn’t ignore the continual prickling of her mark. It had gotten worse since Solas left.  Even if the mark wasn’t slowly killing her again, like it had back at Haven, she could die in the impending fight, or slip on an icy log and fall into a ravine.  Cullen could succumb to the lyrium still present in his body – his addiction could reassert itself, and she could be abandoned. Tossed away in favor of the numbness lyrium could bring.  Anything could happen to either of them. 

She didn’t want to die without Cullen knowing exactly how she felt. But how did she feel?  Anything she could come up with had either already been said dozens of times, or sounded like one of Varric’s novels – right down to the unbelievably happy ending at the end of the implausible story.

She clenched her hand, trying to work out when, exactly it prickled, and in response to what. Aside from rifts, there was no rhyme or reason that she could tell.

The facts remained; Ameridan had sacrificed himself to save the world. She might have to do the same one day.  She might have to make the choice to leave Cullen behind, in favor of the greater good. 

“Fuck the greater good,” she muttered.

“No.” Cassandra sat down next to her, heavy, like her legs had just given out, her eyes still dazed from earlier.  “No, I cannot.”

“Do I deserve a happy ending?” Avexis asked her, hardly aware that she was saying it out loud.

“What? Of course, you do.”  Cassandra seemed to snap into herself.  “I wanted to ask you about something.  About… what you believe the Chantry needs to change about the Circle, to do the most good.”

“I’m hardly an expert on Circle politics.” Avexis nudged the paper with her long-since-dry pen.  “And my mind has been traveling in other directions since meeting the Inquisitor.” 

“You are the Inquisitor,” Cassandra corrected. “And you have – a unique perspective.  You are unlikely to throw the baby out with the bathwater, as it were.  You have a clear vision.”  Her fingers tapped impatiently along the hilt of her sword.  “I need to borrow it.  Your conscience speaks louder than mine.”

“No one’s conscience speaks louder than yours. You just don’t like to admit when you’re wrong.” Avexis’ voice was small when she continued. “What I know is that fear only breeds more fear, and the Chantry uses the fear to control.  Anders did what he did because he wanted a normal life and couldn’t have it. He left the Circle and became a Warden, and they still made him get rid of his cat.”  Skyhold rang with the fights and fickle romances of his legion of felines - all growing fat and happy under the doting mage’s care, answering to names such as ‘Lord Flufferbottom’ and ‘Duchess Mousebane’.  “If Mages are denied even little freedoms-”

Cassandra frowned, “I hardly think providing pets to Circle mages would-”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Avexis poked a hole through the parchment. “I’m saying that the Wardens were an outlet for him.  And for Fiona.  One of the few allowed to Circle mages who haven’t ‘proved’ their loyalty to the Chantry.”  She risked a glance at the Seeker.  “It is next to impossible for mages to prove loyalty before they’re too elderly to consider leaving the Circle.  It’s absurd.  What’s the point of even having Harrowings, if we have to prove, constantly, that we won’t go bad. Over, and over again, and it never stops. I should never have been allowed to choose Tranquility, but I was. I had proven myself safe.   I was convinced that I was dangerous, and I wasn’t. My fear was used against me, because others were afraid. It’s a fucking circle, Cassandra, and it never ends.”

“Galyan only received privileges, and he saved a Divine. The story that was told made me out to be the lone hero,” Cassandra muttered.  “Yes, I – I think I see your point.”  Her eyes lost their focus.  “I wonder I didn’t see it before.”

“You wanted to believe in the system, Cassandra. You wanted to believe that what you fought for was righteous and good. I don’t blame you for that.  We all want to believe we’ve made the right choices.”  Avexis let her thoughts drift back to Cullen.  “The Avvar are very different from Fereldans, aren’t they?  Even though they are so closely related.”

“I suppose.” Cassandra wasn’t paying attention, lost in her own thoughts.  “Do you think Harrowings began before or after Ameridan became Inquisitor?  It must have been after.  I wonder-”

Avexis kept speaking, on her own subject. “Everything is temporary for them.  Holds are moved – fishing and gathering camps in the summer, more permanent camps in the winter.  Their gods can die and be reborn.”  She coughed.  “Even their love is transient-” She dropped the pen, and started tearing the parchment into tiny strips instead.  “I’ve lived that way once, Cassandra.  I don’t want to again.”

Cassandra snapped herself back from her thoughts enough to ask, “Have you written-”

“I was trying when you sat down and started talking Circle politics.” Avexis’ mouth twisted up in humor at the pile of ragged parchment.  “I couldn’t decide how to tell him about – all of this.  Drakon’s mission.  The last Inquisitor.  Hakkon.  Ameridan and his lady.”  Her hand shook, and she scooped up the pile to throw them into the fire.  “I want to tell him about the Templar that traveled with Ameridan.  I want to tell him everything – and I don’t have the words to tell him everything I’ve learned.”

Cassandra looked down. “I’m going to go find Ry – I mean, the Knight-Captain.”  She rose.  “I would like to continue this conversation at another time, if you don’t mind.”

“Have you or have you not seen him naked?” Avexis said to her back, trying to lighten the moment.

“Rank should be respected.” The back of her neck reddened.

“Your rank is higher than his, and he calls you ‘Cassie’.”

“Write your damn letter, and stay out of my business.” The other woman stalked off in the direction of the Knight-Captain’s tent, soldiers and researchers alike parting in front of her before she could run them over. Avexis smiled for a moment, and laughed to herself. “She’s seen him naked. About to again, if I’m any judge. Good for her.”She rifled through her overfull sack for another roll of parchment, lifted her pen and dipped it again.  “Oh, I’ll write it,” she grinned, and began, slowly, choosing her words to Josie carefully, and writing in Orlesian for maximum clarity.

She’d write to Cullen when she was done with this.

The letter written, she slipped another sheet of parchment free from her bag, and began. 

She wasn’t going to overthink this any longer. It was too important.

 

<DT>

 

Cullen sat on his roof, her letter clutched in his hand tight enough to crinkle the parchment, just to make sure it didn’t blow away. 

He read it again, wanting to make sure it said what he thought it did **.** It was a good letter.  Better than the nothing up ‘til this point.  But what it didn’t say – that hurt.

 

_Mon Cher Cullen,_

_I’m sorry. I hear that you’ve been expecting a real letter imminently (eminently?  Which is right here?), and you must be sadly disappointed in me. I don’t blame you. I’m disappointed in myself._

_I was confused. The past makes us both who we were, influences who we are, and gives us insight towards the future.  You are right about one thing, though.  My origin doesn’t change my feelings towards you, and I hope it doesn’t change yours towards me.  (That seems so awkward, but I don’t know how to fix it.  Forgive me for not involving Varric, in favor of improved clarity, I would rather have an illusion of privacy.)_

_I’ve learned things here – about Ameridan, and his last days. About his friends – some problems are universal to Inquisitors, apparently.  One of which would be their – for lack of a better phrase – love life.  He wasn’t very good at balancing personal and professional, either.  He missed his chance at a life with his lady.  She was injured, and he left her behind to fight a dragon.  Her name was elven, and meant ‘Nothing is inevitable’. I hope it’s a sign._

_I see no reason, after seeing what became of his desire for ‘just one last adventure before settling down’, to delay my own desires, or deny what I want to happen._

_I want to come home to you, Cullen. And someday, I would like not to have to leave you at all.  I don’t know what that looks like.  I’m not creative enough, imaginative enough to dream that way.  How, with the way the world is, will that ever be possible?_

_Cassandra has learned things too, and I think it will make a difference in how she chooses to proceed with either the Seekers or the Chantry. And perhaps with Rylen as well._

_Soon we go to hunt down Hakkon, and, as my new friend Sigrid says, ‘Give him a good rebirthing’. Even death is a temporary thing for the Avvar – they believe in limited reincarnation for certain souls.  I’m… a little envious, I admit._

_Once Ameridan’s last quest is completed, I will be coming home, as quickly as I can manage. That is pretty fast, as you no doubt remember, given certain talents._

_I’m a fool.  Forgive me._

_Je t’aime,_

_Avexis_

He frowned. There was nothing to stop her from hurting him again.  An apology, yes, and of course he forgave her.  He always would, but if she ran to protect herself, to give herself space – when would he stop being hurt from her absence? When it stopped hurting, did that mean he stopped caring?

And would he hurt any less, if he quit waiting?

With Hakkon destroyed, they would have some time, perhaps. Time to talk about what being there for each other meant, when they were saving the world, and after that task was done.

Maker preserve him, he wanted what she wanted, too. But he couldn’t just let her keep leaving him to - bleed out, as it were, every time she was wrestling with something bigger than she was.  Being with someone meant sharing with them.  The good and the bad.  There was no room for not writing for more than a month…

Avexis hadn’t ever learned that, he reminded himself. Her past relationships were transient.  Passing ships, as it were, or abusive.  She learned to keep herself to herself – and that bad things happened when she let herself trust.

She needed to learn how to choose to stay – even when she had to leave. Or he wouldn’t wait any longer.  He couldn’t.

“There’s no reply for now,” he barked at Storvacker. “Go about your business.”

 


	9. Titles, Eavesdroppers, and the Maker's Mistake

“Well, this is a kick in the pants.” Varric rubbed his neck, and looked over at Avexis, a letter hanging limply from his fingers.  “Ladybird, got a minute?”

“Oui, un moment, if you please,” Avexis frowned at her knitting, and sighing, set it aside. Varric hardly ever asked anything of her, but setting it down was probably going to cause havoc with the argyle pattern for Sera’s sweater.  The patterns – if executed properly - would clash horribly in the exact same colors as the hat she had made her for L’Emprise du Lion.  With her Plaidweave leggings, Sera would be a yellow and black masterpiece of warmth and hideousness – with an increased protection against her own lightning.  Perhaps it would reassure the archer the next time she started sparking.  Sigrid insisted it was possible - but the magic wasn't intuitive.

“Got a scribble from Hawke.” Avexis frowned.  Did Varric seem nervous?  “I – I think I’m going to have to scoot out of here.  Head home.”

“To Kirkwall? When?”  Something in his face made her gut clench. “Now?  What about Hakkon?”

“Priorities, Ladybird. Thanks to a well-meaning and supposedly oblivious friend, I’ve apparently been elected Viscount in absentia.”

Avexis choked. “They can do that?”

Varric shrugged. “They have done that.  Reading between the lines, Hawke started it.  Kirkwall’s been without anything but Bran Cavin – an asshole who thinks he’s a steward – since Blondie blew up the Chantry.  ‘Somebody’ submitted my name – I suspect as a joke though she’ll never admit it now - and she writes that ‘somehow’ the idea caught on.  Maybe Fenris threatened some people? Or the money I’ve been sending made them think it was a good idea… I really don’t know.”  He rubbed his eyes.  “Look, I’m not happy about it either.  This gets me way too close to the people I like to poke fun at when drafting characters.  But this way I can haul you overseas to seal the rifts, and maybe do something about the sinkholes in Hightown.  So – it might not be all bad?Maybe I’ll give you a title.  That would be fun.”  His eyes shifted away.  “Shit, I’m going to have to give up my rooms at the Hanged Man.  That sucks.”

Avexis stared dully. “You can’t leave.” 

“I beg to differ, Ladybird.”

“Not now, anyway! Not to become Viscount.  Of Kirkwall?”  She took a deep breath.  “I know you’re homesick, Varric, but leaving now…” 

“The dwarf is what?!” Cassandra’s voice cut in.

“You heard her, Seeker, seeing as how you were eavesdropping,” Varric’s mouth twisted up. “You’ll finally be free of me.  As a particularly rotten bonus: Now I have a rank.  A little leverage to make more trouble for everyone.  Should be easy – the job’s supposed to be cursed. I’ll probably die soon. That will make you happy at least **.** ” 

“I only heard you were leaving.” The woman sat down, hard, on a stump with jagged edges and didn’t wince.  “What’s this about a rank?  You’re already a Deshyr.  Are there… tiers within the Guild?”

“Kirkwall has made him Viscount.” Avexis repeated, blinking slow, still unbelieving.  “Viscount Tethras of Kirkwall.”  She tasted the words.  “It doesn’t sound bad at all.  Congratulations, Varric.  I should have said that before.”

“Him?!” Cassandra’s face turned a mottled purple. “AViscount?”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Varric pretended to think.  “Hey, who ranks higher?  A Viscount or a Lady Seeker?”

Cassandra snarled, but broke it off quickly, “I didn’t mean-” 

“Well, that’s what you said,” Varric sighed. “Look, I’m gonna go pack my things.  Hakkon can’t be that bad, Ladybird – you’ve got the Seeker, Hero, Buttercup, Sparkles, and Tiny.  Not to mention Knots.  Just don’t let Kid get too close to the mouth, and you’ll be fine.”  He kicked the ground underneath him.  “I’ll have Cole home for a visit soon.  There’s a great hat shop in Hightown he’d love.” 

“I can’t believe you’re leaving the Inquisition,” Cassandra repeated.

“Well, I can’t believe you’re getting married,” Varric snapped back. “Congratulations, by the way.”

“I am not-” the woman sputtered.

“Cassandra?!”

“It’s not like-”

“Did Rylen propose?!”

“And that’s my cue,” Varric backed away with a short wave. “Have fun digging yourself out of this one, ‘Cassie’.”  He spun on his boot heel, and walked away, head bowed.

“Cassandra-” Avexis prodded.

Cassandra’s nostrils flared at the dwarf’s back, “Yes. Strictly speaking, he did.  I suppose.” 

“And-” Avexis prompted.

“And I have not answered,” Cassandra stared at her feet. “He said he wanted me to understand his intentions, and that I was under no obligation to answer him anytime soon.  But that, and I quote, ‘he wanted to get his word in before the Maker got there first.’”

Avexis coughed, “Charmant.” 

“Exactly.” Cassandra’s mouth twisted.  “I make it sound less romantic than it was.  We had dinner under the stars on that landing by the main camp – where the rift used to be?  There was sparkling wine, a roaring bonfire sending sparks up to the heavens, and rose petals.”  A smile played with her lips.  “He quoted poetry – about lover’s souls entwining, and one about a lady ‘who walked in beauty like the night’.”  She snorted, “He probably meant it to be me.  We fed each other berries, and he read to me…” her eyes drifted before snapping back to the present.  “It’s too soon to entertain thoughts of such things.  I told him so.”

“So, you refused him.” Avexis sat back, disappointed.

“I did not!” Cassandra’s eyes narrowed. “I told him there was still too many things standing in our way.  That the Inquisition’s goals had to come first.  That’s not a…” 

The Inquisition’s goals. Avexis winced, she had complicated the issue even more.  “Did Rylen hear it that way?” 

Cassandra paled, and then flushed, before admitting, “He did leave rather quickly afterward. I expected him to – well, that’s no matter.”  She cleared her throat, “But surely he didn’t think… oh no.”  Her voice was smaller than Avexis had ever heard it.  “He didn’t stay for-  Flaming Sword of Mercy, what have I done?”  She grabbed at Avexis.  “You must write to Cullen, and demand to know if Rylen is…”

Avexis blinked, her heart racing a mile a minute, trying to calm herself so that she could confess. “Is what? It’s only been a few days, Cassandra.  Rylen couldn’t possibly have made it back to Skyhold already.” 

Cassandra turned an alarming combination of purple and red and olive. “I did not mean…”

“Then you should write to him yourself.” Avexis sighed, and braced herself.  “A raven could catch him on the way back.” 

“It’s too late, if-” Cassandra choked. “What have I done?”

Avexis bit her lip, “I should say the same thing. Oh, Cassandra, I am so sorry.” 

“It’s not too late. It can’t be,” the Seeker hissed.  “I will- I will write.  And explain.  I didn’t mean to end everything.  I wanted more time – he offered me time!  It can’t be over.”  She pointed at Avexis, “I will not accept this.  This can be fixed.  I will fix it – you have done nothing wrong.”

“I’m not sorry for that, for…” Avexis coughed, “I’m sorry.  So sorry.  But it is too late.  I wrote to Josie, after we spoke to Ameridan.  When I heard about the mages helping the Seekers, heard what you had to say to him – and afterward-” 

“Spit it out.”

“I wrote to Val Royeaux, and gave you my support to become Divine. I didn’t know you and Rylen were-” Avexis searched Cassandra’s face for forgiveness.

Cassandra sucked air into her mouth, clapping her hand over it, and started to rock. “Maker,” she managed after a few moments.  “This is a farce.  A bad one.  Even Varric wouldn’t write-” Her mouth firmed.  “I must write to Leliana.  Val Royeaux…” her eyes softened.  “Now I must go, if they are to take me seriously as a candidate.  It’s only fair to notify her, if she doesn’t know already.”

“I’m sure she does. I sent my approval through Josie.  But Cassandra, what about Rylen?”

Cassandra looked away. “I had made plans before – I thought to make him my Right Hand.  We would see each other often, but now…” 

“I can’t imagine he would be satisfied with a position at your side, when he hoped to be there as your… husband.” The word sat awkwardly on Avexis’ lips.

Cassandra nodded, sharp. “I must agree.”  She pressed her lips together.  “Perhaps the Mothers will not make me Divine after all?”  

“Is that something you should be hoping for?” Avexis asked, marveling at her own gentleness in the face of the shocks the day had brought.  “Maybe you did have an answer for Rylen, if you find yourself longing for their disapproval.  Perhaps you don’t really want to be Divine.”

Cassandra worked her mouth wordlessly, and then snarled. “Love is shit.”

Avexis picked up her knitting, staring at it wordlessly. “I have to agree.”  It had been too soon for Cullen to write back.  She would keep reminding herself of that, and throw herself into the fight against Hakkon in the meantime. 

And then she could go home.

 

<DT>

 

A week later, Cullen watched his friend pace his office, both of them watched over protectively by the overlarge bear in the far corner by his armor stand, surrounded with honey dishes and an enormous claw-scarred log.

For the record, Cullen had no idea how the bear had accumulated such belongings. But slowly, that corner of his office was turning into Storvacker’s den. 

Rylen had been wearing a hole in his rug for several hours. “I should… I should move back to Starkhaven.  I could get a job with the Prince’s Guard.  I’m sure the Ambassador would write a letter of introduction.  She’s got Vael by the small bits, and I’d be a good contact to have in the palace.  Vael’s a pious arse, but…”  Cullen leaned up against the bookshelf.  Rylen’s pacing was making him dizzy.  “I can’t stay with the Templars any longer, that’s certain.  Lyrium or no lyrium, I can’t.  I can’t stay this close to her.”  He shook his head.  “Andraste’s Tits, Cullen, say something.”

“I have a hard time believing that Cassandra turned you down as definitively as you believe.”

“She said that the Inquisition came first. That we hadn’t known each other long enough.  She said that we barely knew each other.”  Rylen barked a hoarse laugh.  “I’ve told her the worst things I’ve done, and she’s done the same.  We’ve spent full nights _worshipping_ each other.  She makes this sweet little squeak when you nibble on her ankle…” Cullen cleared his throat.  “Cullen, I know her body better than I know my own.  I know what she thinks before she says it.  And we don’t fucking _know each other?_ ”  He slammed his hand into the wall, his head following, but more gently.  “Cassie knows her own mind.  I love her for it.  Adore her for it.  She will make an excellent Divine, as, no doubt, the Maker intends.”  Rylen glowered, “Never been jealous of a god before.  Fucking bastard, he’d better deserve her **.** ”  He snorted, and Storvacker echoed him. **“** Suddenly Maferath doesn’t seem like such an arsehole **.** ”

Cullen coughed. “He _is_ the Maker, Rylen.  If anyone deserves the Seeker, it’s him.” 

Rylen thudded a fist into the wood of Cullen’s desk, and Storvacker growled. Rylen waved apologetically at the bear, who laid her head back down on her massive paw.  “He’s fucking messed up a few things.  Even he admits it, in the Chant.  You sang in the choir, right?  Must have done the part about where he created his Firstborn and regretted it.  The Templars were never about piety with me, Cullen.  I joined the Order because I wanted to be useful, instead of just another stonemason working for his father.  I don’t believe the Maker interferes with his creations – he’s distant, watching.”  He frowned, “He’d better not diddle with Cassandra.  Some of the other Divines-” He colored, and changed the subject as abruptly as he was changing direction.  “You would write me a reference, wouldn’t you?  For the Starkhaven Guard?”

“You know I will. But I think you’re mistaken.  Cassandra merely wanted more time.  The Inquisition is far from over, my friend.  There’s the Chantry to think of.  And their decision hasn’t been announced.”

“Fuck the Chantry. This is about _us_.  If that woman wants something, she goes after it.  She doesn’t want me enough, is all.  Otherwise she’d already have me, and we’d be picking flowers and arguing about who had to wear a dress for the ceremony.”  He grinned, “I would lose.  Templar skirts for me, dress armor for her.”

“Right,” Cullen almost smiled. “I had no idea you were so… passionate.”

“Damn fool, is what I am.” Rylen settled into Cullen’s office chair, elbows on his knees, and his hands cradling the back of his head, bent over in pain.  Cullen knew all too well that it was likely physical as well as mental.  “You could ask the Inquisitor.  If Cassie seems sad, or like she regrets…” 

Cullen cleared his throat again. “That’s a bit difficult at the moment-” Storvacker humphed from her warm corner in agreement.  He was entirely too in tune with the bear’s opinions, after several weeks of her company.

“Shit, you two still aren’t talking?” Rylen raised his head.  “Cullen, friend to friend, someone’s got to break the silence.”

“She wrote me a letter. I just haven’t replied.  Yet.  She requested time and space before she left, and I’m trying to give her what she wants.”

“You’ve got the length of the Frostbacks between you. How much more space does she fucking need? Don’t be an arse, man.  Write the damned letter.”

Cullen stared at him, and then laughed, short and quick. “Perhaps you’re right.”  Behind him, Storvacker rubbed up against the corner of his bookshelf – threatening to topple it with her weight and leaving remnants of her summer hair behind.  She was molting heavily – and he was keeping her fur, just in case the rumors of her fur being valuable in Val Royeaux were true.  Perhaps Avexis could make something of them, if so.  He had a massive sack of it upstairs already.

He was as much a fool as his friend.

Rylen nodded in brisk approval. “There you go.  One of these damn stories needs to have a happy ending.  If it ain’t mine, it should be yours, brother.”  He stood and clapped Cullen on the shoulder.  “Back to work, Commander.  You write your letter, and if you should just happen to mention me to the Inquisitor… all to the better, aye?”  He winked, and then his face fell.  “Or not.  Cassie’s not one to change her mind.”  His lips twisted, “Both of ‘em, afraid to commit, aren’t they?”

Cullen closed his eyes, “I think so. Yes.”

Rylen sighed, “Tough luck, mate. Hang in there.”  His mouth twisted.  “At least your girl will come here first.  If I know Cassie, she’ll head straight for Val Royeaux after she fights that bloody spirit-dragon-abomination thing, ready to take up the next duty.  Bloody workaholic.”  His shoulders fell.  “Yours saves the world.  Mine fights for Truth.  Got to love a girl with ambition, eh?”

“You could follow her.”

“Not my style.” Rylen quirked up half his mouth, and let it fall.  “I don’t want to be that guy.”

 


	10. Practical Magic

“Gods aid me!” Sigrid yelled, and a barrier shimmered into existence around Avexis. The mage was proving herself a more than adequate replacement for Solas – she could even _heal_ , more than a little. 

Dorian was jealous, but he would never admit it. Sigrid was a fast study – picking up everything they could teach her almost before they could finish the lesson, and asking for more and making further parallels.  Avexis would have liked to blame it on the spirit within her – but discreet inquiries to the Augur had proved her suspicions false.

Sigrid was simply brilliant, and had been long before she was possessed.

The only downside to her new companion was her refusal to learn offensive skills. “I will not endanger my friend,” she had told Dorian bluntly, when he first attempted to instruct her in the fine art of throwing fire at her enemies.  “And I don’t like the way you use the gods to fight.”  Her use of elements was practical only – and defense oriented, instead of offense.  Traps and wards were fine, but she wouldn’t shoot lightening at fools.  “How is what you do any different from the Jaws?”

“I don’t hurt the spirits, just make them useful. I release them once they’ve served-”

“I won’t risk corrupting my friend’s purpose,” Sigrid had repeated, ending the conversation and Dorian’s attempt at a lesson in necromancy. He humphed.  “When you make those noises, Tevinter, it only proves your ancestors were nugs.”

Even Dorian had to laugh at that, “No doubt it is just as you say, my darling barbarian.”

“I’m not the one putting gods in corpses,” she had retorted, and turned back to her own work. “Now, show me that spell that speeds everything up again.  Haste, you called it?”  She frowned, “I thought hurrying magic was a bad idea, but – I can see how it would be useful.  Occasionally.”

Avexis couldn’t complain – it was proving invaluable to have that kind of support while fighting Hakkon. Two out of three warriors – the more dragon-oriented ones, thankfully – were established as their first line of offense.  Thom had positioned himself in front of Sigrid, deliberately deflecting the dragon’s attacks from the woman while she healed midbattle, preserving their supply of potions and poultices for emergencies.   The three of them casting Haste in tandem made everything move a little smoother.

She might not even have to turn into a dragon for this fight. Cullen would be reassured.  She’d been wondering how she could possibly avoid it, right up until this moment.  In fact, for once, their fighting was seamless nothing to correct or complain about.

Dorian, however, had to be different.

“WHERE DID THE BABIES COME FROM?” He shrieked at Sigrid.  “Hakkon’s been frozen for 800 years?  Surely she didn’t reproduce in that time?  Or are these drakes, and she’s going into heat?!”

Bull guffawed, “If she hasn’t got any for 800 years, Dorian, we’d better get out of their way.”

“Don’t project,” Dorian snapped back at him, and raised four dead dragonlings to attack their presumed mother. “Answer the question, Sigrid!”

“I know about Hakkon, not dragons,” The Avvar mage huffed, renewing the barrier on Sera. “Maybe her babies got frozen with her?”

“Tell me you don’t expect me to ask?” Avexis panted at Dorian. Hakkon – while outwardly vocal – had a one-track mind that she hadn’t experienced in a dragon before.  “She’s not very coherent, mentally.”  She had a headache; hearing ‘I am Hakkon, I am the cold breath of Winter…’ in both her head and her ears made for a lot of excess noise.  “She’s not going to answer personal questions, I promise.”

“Of course not, but you have to admit it’s bizarre,” Dorian began, and then had to quit speaking, as he was being overrun by a fresh wave of dragonlings. “Help the squishy mage please!”

Rolling her eyes, Sigrid threw a healing spell at him, and he used Fadestep to retreat until his mana topped up again.

With that, the previously even tide of progress turned into disaster.

Right beneath the dragon’s front feet, Cassandra hacked and slashed, snarling her defiance wordlessly – and taking out her recent personal issues on Hakkon. She ignored the smaller dragons entirely, in favor of attacking the would-be god.  Cole – bless his heart – was trying, his usual skills taking out a single leg at a time, preventing Hakkon from kicking at least, but not making a larger difference.  The dragon spat ice, temporarily – Avexis hoped – freezing Cassandra and Bull into warrior shaped icicles.

“Dorian!” Avexis called back to her friend.

“I know, quit playing with baby dragons and throw some fire at the evil ice dragon,” he gasped. “Give me a minute.”

“We might not have a minute!” The dragon spat again, and Cole was a block of ice, daggers poised for a double strike.

Dorian tutted, “Such impatience. My mana-”

Avexis’ patience snapped. “Dorian.  Use the fucking lyrium.  That’s why you carry it!”

Bull’s surface of ice cracked, and, alarmingly blue, he swung up and over, cleaving at Hakkon’s neck, opening a massive gash. Dorian watched him before tipping the vial down his throat, gagging slightly.  “Oh, that is nasty…”

“Nobody likes the taste,” Avexis spat, and erected one of the mark’s massive domes. “Now get your pretty ass over here and throw fire.”

“Only because you said I was pretty.”

It took hours, but finally, finally, the dragon fell to the combined blades of Cassandra and Bull. Avexis slip-slid her way over the water-covered ice, and approached the dragon itself.  Sera nudged it with her boot, hardly believing it was over.  “It’s really dead, then?  It’s not going to pop up and start yelling?”

There was sweet silence in her brain, it was true – but it might only be unconscious. “Elle est morte, Sera.”  Avexis decided to err on the side of optimism.

“I could resurrect it, if you want to ask some questions,” Dorian bluffed. Avexis recoiled.  “Another time, then.”  Her friend pouted, “You never let me resurrect the dragons.”

“It spoke,” Cassandra leaned up against her sword – for once not worried about blunting it, in favor of having something to lean against. She’d never seen her so battered.  “It spoke, and I understood.”

“We all did,” Cole whispered, eyes wide.

“They’re usually a bit more… chatty,” Avexis clarified. “Even the ones in the Emprise could say more.  This one – it’s like her personality was subsumed.”  She frowned, remembering.  “Even the false archdemon could say more – until right at the end when the red lyrium had driven her mad.”

“Demon,” Sera spat on it. “Proof they’re all shite, right?  Every single dragon.”  Avexis shuddered.  “Present company excluded, I guess.”

“I know one or two decent ones,” Avexis managed, suddenly aware that her throat rasped with smoke and ash and cold. “The one at the Storm Coast is a Vinsomer.  I looked her breed up in Serault’s book.  She’s a lovely conversationalist.”  Her friends all looked at her like she was insane, except Sigrid.

“A wine summer?” Sigrid translated, grinning. “A match for Hakkon, then.  Shame she’ll never meet her now.”  They looked at the massive body again.  “Someone ought to butcher it.  Shame to let it go to waste.”  She drew a dagger, and nodded at Avexis.  “Let’s get going.  It’ll take all night, this rate.”

“I’ve never…" 

Sigrid looked at her with disbelief. “All those fancy furs and clothes and you’ve never skinned an animal?”  Avexis shook her head, “Watch, and do what I do then.”

 

<DT>

 

Avexis stumbled back to the camp, well after midnight, only to have the sentries wave her away. “We stink,” Sigrid’s laugh rang out loudly.  “To the river.  Your armor may never be the same again if we don’t wash it well.”  She shrugged, “but that’s not a problem.  You can make better with the ice dragon webbing.  I’m sure your tanners back at Skyhold will have it ready to go in no time.”

Avexis groaned, and trudged back to the creek, resigned to a frigid bath only partially heated with magic. “At least this will be the last cold bath – after this, it will be back to Skyhold.”  She sighed, “Warm rooms, good food, and…” Cullen.  She allowed herself a smile while she stripped, and stepped into the water.

It would be good to see him.

Her personal thoughts were interrupted by Sigrid – who was waxing on something far less agreeable. “You’ve never skinned an animal before tonight. You don’t take turns cooking like the rest.  What else don’t you know?”  Avexis jumped, shivering as the water she was trying to warm splashed against her warmer skin.

It was pointless to warm river water – it flowed away too quickly, outside of an eddy.

But Sigrid awaited an answer. “Everything,” Avexis was surprised into honesty, without feeling defensive.  “Sera and Cullen taught me to knit and spin.  It started off as concentration exercises – after being Tranquil I had focus issues.  My mentor taught me about herbs and plants – and I learned more from Galyan.  I know a lot about magic theory – but not as much as Dorian.  I know a little about a lot of things – but hardly anything practical.”

Sigrid snorted, “Maybe you can theorize how to lure your dinner to you?”

Avexis shrugged, embarrassed. “Yes, well, I was Tran-” she stopped, feeling like the excuse was getting old.  “I never really had a chance to learn.  I can do my own laundry, at least,” she justified, while she rinsed the noxious dragon blood from her clothing.  Her feet had already gone numb in the icy water.  “But mages in the Circle – the Tranquil do most of the menial chores for them.  Tranquil like to be useful.  I was Tranquil, but I had a patron.”  She looked away, “Galyan took care of me.  Made sure I was fed, and clean, and clothed, and had valuable work to do, instead of being sent to the kitchens.  I didn’t have to learn how to hunt, or cook, or anything.”

“Like a child,” Sigrid criticized. “You can barely function outside a battlefield.”  She’d long since finished, sitting down on the rock and maintaining the barrier around Avexis that kept the bogfishers and poison spiders away while she let her skin airdry.

“It’s not that I couldn’t learn – it’s just that there was no opportunity-” Avexis frowned, and held up her hand. “Do you feel that?”  A long slow rumble rocked up from beneath her feet, shuddered past, lasting long seconds until they couldn’t feel it any longer.

Sigrid rocked back on her hands. “Another earthquake?  The Mountain Father must be upset about Hakkon awakening.  The gods are out of balance.  They should stop, now that he’ll be rebirthed.  Assuming the hold does the chanting, anyway.”

“The Mountain Father - that’s Korth, right?”

“Aye,” Sigrid smiled slightly. “Not the first earthquake in the Frostbacks.  Won’t be the last.”  She rose back to her feet in a smooth, graceful rocking motion.  “You about done?”  She took her drying cloth and wrapped it around herself, tucking it in securely around her breasts. 

“No,” Avexis admitted, “But you go on ahead. I’ll – I’ll just finish up here.”

“I’ll not leave you to the beasts, Inquisitor. Not safe, to be out here on your own.”

Avexis raised an ironic eyebrow, “You did it for months.” 

“You’re not me,” Sigrid smiled, with a lot of teeth winking in the torchlight, “I can take care of myself.” 

Avexis didn’t bother to argue.

 

<DT>

 

Avexis lay on her bedroll, tossing. First trying her stomach, then lying on her back.  No matter her position, she couldn’t get comfortable.

Everything felt wrong, with Cassandra gone.

The Seeker had left that morning for Val Royeaux, snarling at everyone who spoke to her. “I know my duty.  If it is the Maker’s will, I will do it.  I do not have to like it.”  Without another word, she mounted her horse and departed, but left the shroud of gloom behind. 

Along with Avexis. Without Cassandra, she was bereft of the only person that anchored her to life before the Conclave; to before the world went insane and took her with it.

In the smoky haze of the campfire, Avexis could admit she had made a mistake, a tactical error, in recommending the Seeker for the office of Divine. But it was too late now – she could hardly write to the Revered Mothers and say ‘I’m horribly sorry, but the Seeker is a terrible choice.’  Cassandra had already shouldered the burden, and made her choice.  And with Varric gone, there was no one willing to tell Cassandra that she was being a damned fool.  The others were far too intimidated by her to tell her what they really thought.

“It’s not the Maker’s Will,” Avexis muttered to herself, conscious of the company in the tent. “It was my will.  And unlike the Maker, I make mistakes.”  Dorian snorted, and she rolled over, hoping she hadn’t woken the other mage.  It was kind of him to deprive himself of Bull just so she and Sigrid weren’t alone in their too large tent.

She had no idea how long she laid there, watching the fire make shadows on the canvas. Her thoughts became darker as the shadows morphed into new ones.  She closed her eyes at last, denying the thoughts access, or at least that was the intention.

Instead, she slipped into the Fade, but the shadows came with her, changing shapes on the back of her eyelids, glowing red in the dying light of the fire’s flames. Her throat tightened, breath shortened, and the panic started to rise. 

And then, a voice.

_Curre, Avexis!_

_Mater!_ Her voice rasped in her throat.  She was smaller here, or the woman she reached for was bigger.  In the seconds it took for Avexis to realize she dreamt, it was hard to tell which.  The woman had been pierced through with a sword, and she shrieked from the trap laid for her.  But her face reflected only desperation. _NO!_

_A bright flash of Avexis’ own power left her, and now the sword glowed, lighting the woman’s body from within, arcing down to ground her from fingertips. She crumpled, and fell, and Avexis’ eyes followed her._

 

She stared at the twisted forms of the dead curled at her feet. Recognizable dead.  Pierre, crystalized into rigor mortis.  Grand Duke Gaspard, his head separated from his body by a few rolling inches in her direction.  A dozen others – Templars and mages killed in the Hinterlands, bandits and Freemen and Sentinels piled in grisly heaps at her feet.  She wanted to hide her face, but – the bodies kept shifting and lifting her higher, as a mountain of dead formed beneath her.  She wanted to scream, but the sound wouldn’t come, she couldn’t breathe… 

With a shuffling moan, the closest pushed itself up, the blackened face turning to hers. _Occisus es me. Haec tua culpa. Si non fuit ad vos ego salvas erit._

_She knew that face now. The first death.  Her first murder.  Twisted remnants of still-blonde hair around a delicate face, traced with worry and running blood…_

 

“Mater!” Avexis sat up with a jerk. Next to her, Dorian snorted again.

“And here I thought you didn’t remember any Tevene?” His voice was sleep-thick.

“I don’t,” Avexis shuddered, and reached for her coat, wrapping it around herself – unwilling to settle herself in her bedroll again. Not yet.  “What does ‘Occisus es me’, mean?”  Her tongue struggled with the sibilants.

Dorian rolled over to face her. “What have the spirits in your dreams been saying to you?”

“Just answer.” 

“You killed me.” Dorian raised a sculpted eyebrow.  “Anything else?”

Avexis wracked her memory. “Something like, ‘tu culpa’?” 

“’Tua Culpa’, more likely. ‘Your fault.’”  Dorian sighed.  “And that’s the end of the midnight translating sessions.  You dream dialogue hits a little too close to home.”  He snuggled down further in his own, thicker bedroll.  “’Mater’ means ‘mother’, by the way.  Avexis, you know I love and adore you, but do try to banish that particular demon as soon as possible?  I have no desire whatsoever to hear that word being called out in the middle of the night.  It will give me nightmares, if it keeps on.  I haven’t called out to her in…” his words trailed off.  “I don’t know when.  I will have to resign myself to being less warm, and more crowded, if you cannot take care of this.”

“I’ll try,” Avexis managed, and laid back down. “Fear, do you think?”

“Despair, more likely.” Dorian sniffed.  “Why now?”

“Hakkon’s influence?”

“He hasn’t been rebirthed yet,” Sigrid muttered from the other side of Dorian. “The chants have only just started back at the Hold.  Can’t you feel the drums?  And I’m trying to sleep.”

“Does your teacher know-”

“He might, but it will have to wait until morning. He’s busy with Hakkon and the other gods until then, and I’m too tired to take you there.”  Sigrid grumbled.  “You’d think you’d be too tired to dream, considering you killed a god the day before yesterday.”

Avexis turned over to face the side of the tent, shivering. Dorian sighed behind her, and felt a tug on her braid.  “Better just get up, Ladybird, if you can’t sleep.  Dwelling does no one any good.” 

“No, I’m going to sleep,” she murmured, stubborn, and closed her eyes.

Surprisingly, she did. The Fade, this time, was lighter, a forest of metal trees, and twisting mists that disguised their true forms and what might lie beyond them.

It wasn’t exactly comforting, but it was familiar. She had been here before, if not in a dream.  Turning, she watched, halfway expecting Morrigan to step out from behind one of the branches and greet her.  Instead, she saw something else – nothing more than a shadow – disappear behind a distant sculpture instead.  “Hello?”  She stepped towards it.  “Morrigan?”

There was no answer. 

She shivered, despite the warmth and welcoming nature of the place. “Morrigan,” she tried again, her voice shaking.  “Is that you?”

In the distance, there was a single howl, echoing into the thick magic of the air. “Who is there?” Avexis demanded, summoning everything that remained of her willpower.  “Come out, show yourself, demon!”

There was a presence, bitter and looming, but she couldn’t place it. The sky, if it could be called that, in such a nebulous place – darkened, clouds gathering.  Around her, lightning began to strike, hitting each of the metal trees in turn.

Avexis tried to curtail her magic automatically, but… “This isn’t mine,” she stared all around, unafraid, despite the smell of ozone and crackles of the charged air. Lightning had little power to hurt her – there was no point in panicking.  “I am not doing this.  Do you hear me?  I know that this isn’t me.”  She plopped herself down on the ground instead, and watched the show for a few moments, before grounding herself, and centering her consciousness in an attempt to find the perpetrator.  The frazzled feeling in the air rose the hairs on the back of her neck and her braid escaped it’s binding to puff up like an improbable dandelion. 

Some else was there. Her magic brushed with theirs, briefly, and then, the mists and clouds parted and she was alone, again, in a part of the Fade that felt like the Crossroads.  The aura was gone, and she opened her eyes, puzzled, only to see the roof of the tent instead of the twisted trees she was expecting.

Her two sleeping companions didn’t move this time. Dorian snored on, blissfully unaware of her latest dream, and Sigrid chuckled softly in her sleep.

Avexis flopped over, envious of the other mages’ more pleasant dreams, and waited for dawn.

If the Fade was going to be like that, there was no point in trying to sleep.


	11. Homecomings, Hair, and Habits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're back! We survived Thanksgiving!
> 
> And it's still Monday, at least where I am, so we're not even posting this late! Whoo hoo!

Avexis landed on her balcony, and transformed. Her instructions had been simple, and followed to the letter.  A bath waited, still steaming.  Food on a tray – things she’d been missing for months now, with a precious wedge of sharp cheese to go with the fruit and croissants.  Perfect.  Avvar food specialized in heavy and rich.  By the end of the three months she’d spent in the Basin, she was longing for fragile pastry and fresh produce.

Something was missing – someone specifically. Cullen wasn’t here – he hadn’t missed a homecoming since long before Corypheus.  Her letter had to have been received, if Skyhold had known to expect her, but… he wasn’t here. 

There was, however, a note on her desk.

 

> _I’m sorry, Avexis. I couldn’t wait – I’ll be in my office.  I’m sorry to launch you right back into work upon your return. I wanted to pull away with you – if only for a few days - but that’s not going to happen._
> 
> _Josie has scheduled a War Council for tomorrow – there are reports of some strange earthquakes all over Thedas, and Orzamaar has formally requested our assistance with the matter. I had to attend to the appropriate preparations. It appears we may have to send you into the Deep Roads._
> 
> _Please come see me after you’ve had your bath and eaten something. We need to talk – about your letter, and a few other things.  Hopefully not work – if only for a night._
> 
> _I’ll be there when you’re ready._
> 
> _Cullen_

 

Frustrated, she sighed, and set the note back down, in favor of stripping and sinking into the hip bath. The first bath after her return from the field was always the best – but she preferred Cullen there and participating.

His letter seemed stiff, like he was forcing the informal tone. Was he angry with her?

She had no doubt that word of her choices had reached his ears. He probably knew all about Sigrid’s – special circumstances.   It was a wonder that he hadn’t gone out to meet her party with his remaining Templars as soon as he heard. 

He hadn’t. That meant something, perhaps.

And he had to know about Varric’s departure for Kirkwall. And about Cassandra not returning with her.  Her companions were dwindling, and that would make him grumpy.

She leaned back in the bath, pulling at her braid to loosen it, and sunk her fingers into the ever thickening mass, to work the filth away from her scalp. Maybe his anger was for Cassandra - Rylen was his best friend.  She strongly doubted that Cassandra had managed to write the man and tell him the truth.  The Seeker hated to admit she had made a mistake, and was shy about her relationship, besides.  There was no chance she’d beg him to give her another chance.

And Sigrid _was_ possessed.  Cullen would want her in a room surrounded by Templars for questioning, no doubt – and her friend had resigned herself to such an interrogation, taking it as her punishment.  Not that Avexis had any intention of allowing such a thing to happen… she needed the mage at her side.  But there was no painting that situation in a positive hue.  Once a Templar…

Perhaps that wasn’t fair.

He had no right to be angry about Varric. Varric being elected Viscount was outside of her control… she’d had nothing to do with it.

Cassandra, on the other hand... her thoughts were going in circles.

The conversation was going to be difficult. She would have to justify many things.  But it would be all right, after he met Sigrid, and she explained about Cassandra’s mistake and denied any involvement in Varric’s non-existent political aspirations.  Probably.

She finished washing quickly, not taking her usual care or luxuriating in the water **.** Her mind drifted as she dried off, dressed, and braided her wet hair.

There was no point putting it off. She grabbed a couple croissants off the tray – her loudly protesting stomach wouldn’t let her deny her hunger - and started down the stairs.  The fruit would wait for later, but the croissants were still warm.

She wanted to see him, angry or not.

 

<DT>

 

Cullen knew he flushed when she walked through his door. Her hair was still wet from her bath, somehow managing to look both soft and roughened from the cold weather.  “You’re back,” he noted weakly, and rubbed the back of his neck.  “There’s a lot you should know.”  His lips pressed together, and he nudged a scroll on his desk.  “I have a list.”

Avexis lifted the roll in her hand. “I brought you a snack.”

“I – um, thank you, but I’ve already eaten.” He flushed.  “Storvacker brings my meals now.  She’s a favorite with Cook.”

“Oh,” Her face fell, but she stepped towards him, and he didn’t like the worried crease between her eyes. “First, you should know that it’s not that I think all abominations are stable.  I don’t- but Sigrid is different.  The spirits that reside with the Stone-Bear Hold are ancient and-” 

“You don’t have to justify your-”

“And Sigrid is wonderful – you’ll see, if you only give her-”

“Love, that’s not what we need to talk about.” Cullen looked down at the list.  He’d spent a long time on that list.  But Avexis, in her usual Maker-may-care attitude, had already thrown it aside.

“Oh.” She braced herself against his desk.  “Look, if Cassandra had been more forthcoming, I would never have recommended-”

“That is not the issue here.” Cullen gripped his pen tighter.  “That’s their business – Rylen and Cassandra’s.”

“You have to tell Rylen. She wants him to know that she regrets her answer.”

Cullen shook his head, “I will, but we need to-”

She broke in again, “And I swear, I had nothing to do with Varric being elected Viscount. It was all Hawke’s doing.”

Cullen laughed, “Of course it was. I’m not angry.”  He looked away. 

“You didn’t write back.” Her voice had nearly disappeared.  “Don’t lie to me, Cullen.”

“I said I’m not angry.” His jaw ached with clenching.  “Not about that, anyway.”  He glanced up, “You took your sweet time to write in the first place.”  He sounded belligerent, and tried to tone it down when she flinched.  “You were – busy.  You didn’t need me distracting you.  It – I – didn’t want to be misunderstood.”

“I see,” Avexis sidled up to the side of his desk, close enough to touch. “Misunderstandings seem to be going around. Is it in the water, do you think?”

Cullen set down his pen before he snapped the quill in his fingers. “I told Rylen that Cassandra would never refuse him like that.”  He risked a glance at her, and one of his shoulders drooped, and he touched her hip, gently, one sideways step from a full embrace.  He couldn’t be in the same room with her without wanting to touch her.  “You look well.  Lovely, really.  The Frostbacks must have suited you?”  He nodded at her face.  “More freckles.  Scout Harding will have competition, if she’s not careful.”

Avexis laughed, with what sounded like relief. She stepped even closer, into the half circle of his arm, and slid the croissant onto his desk.  “I missed you, Cullen.  Horribly.”

Cullen lifted his hand up and touched her cheek. His fingers could feel the rough texture caused by wind and ice.  “And I you.  Why didn’t you write?”  His Maker-be-damned voice broke, and he cleared his throat.

“For the same reason you didn’t.” Her eyes searched his.  “I didn’t know what to say.  I didn’t want to be misunderstood.  I wanted to speak in person, and that was impossible.  When I realized how much I needed to say, I did write, and – what is the word? – ah, ‘bungled’ it entirely.  But now Hakkon is dead- or mostly dead- or at least being rebirthed-” she caught her breath.  “Do you have some time?  This might take a-”

Cullen didn’t wait for her to finish. His other hand cupped her unclaimed hip, and he buried his face in her neck, enjoying her squeak of surprise.  His mouth nipped a new path up to her ear, straight to the tip, and she went slack against him.  He dropped her abruptly, frowning as she propped herself up – apparently weak-kneed already, and that didn’t bode well for his barely-hatched plans – and marched to his doors, slamming home the barriers on all three before stalking back over and starting again.

It felt like his heart had stopped beating for months, only to start up again as soon as she walked into the room. Shaking hands unfastened her jacket, and she was laughing underneath him, the movements making his fumbling fingers worse.  How long had it been since he’d heard her laugh like that?  He lifted her up to his desk, and started to lean her back, to crawl over her, already trying to catch her giggles in his mouth. 

Until she shoved the croissant at his parted lips. “Cullen,” she warned, still laughing, but this time at his frustrated grunt.  “I’m getting the impression you missed me, despite my many faults as a correspondent.”

He bit into it, and swallowed, and then tossed the rest behind him, narrowed eyes focused on her. No doubt one of Anders’ damned cats would find it – the bloody things had taken over Skyhold. Or Storvacker would. She was an excellent forager.  It would be just like her to develop a taste for pastry.  Cook would go crazy trying to make enough to satisfy the enormous bear.  “Avexis,” his voice sounded rough, “I missed everything.”  He had missed her smile, her slitted, clever eyes, even lined with fatigue and stress as they always were, her face, now windburnt and weary, and yet impossibly beautiful.

“We need to talk.” But she was scooting to get closer to him, kissing the day’s growth of stubble on the underside of his chin.  Stroking the back of his neck with staff-rough fingers.  Looping one leg behind his to make him bark his knee against the damned desk.

“We will talk. After.”  He finished her jacket, and she shrugged it off, her hands dropping to his laces, yanking them to pieces and burying her hand inside to get to him.  “Maker-” he groaned and pressed into her palm, jerking.

“I need to introduce you to Sigrid.”

“After,” he growled. His hand slid up under her chemise, cupping a breast – mercifully free from binding – had she come straight from her bath, without even stopping to see Josie?  He couldn’t imagine a world in which she wouldn’t bind her breasts to meet with the Ambassador - and brushed a nipple with his thumb.  His mouth matched hers, tongues darting out to greet each other, and she leaned back then, pulling him down on top of her.  She bit his lip, hard enough to sting, and he groaned into her mouth.  “It can all bloody wait.”

His air came back as panting, her other leg now locked around his waist, she arched up underneath him, and then…

Then she froze. “What are we doing?”  The words formed against his lips.

“I’m fucking you on my desk. Again.”  His voice, guttural in the admission, sounded more aroused than sheepish.  But he felt the fool, all the same.  “It wasn’t how I planned our reunion to go, but… we’re making a habit of it, perhaps.”  He pulled back.  “Do you want to take this elsewhere?”

“Hmmm,” she dropped her legs from around his back. “We need to talk, you said.  And you’re right.  We do.”  She looked at her knee, instead of him, avoiding his eyes.  “Before.  Not after.”

“Right,” he sighed, and sat up on his own knees, wincing at the pressure. He wasn’t as young as he used to be.  “We should.  We do.  Things happened, before you left, and-”

“I’m sorry I ran like that.”

“So am I.”

“I’m the one who – how did Varric describe it? ‘Freaked out?’”  She rolled her eyes, somehow still managing not to meet his straight on.  “You wouldn’t believe the lectures I’ve been getting.  Everyone has an opinion and insists on sharing it with me. You have nothing to feel sorry for.”

Cullen paused, and then shrugged, shifting himself so that he was sitting on his desk perpendicular to her, rather than looming over her. “I’m sorry that I’m tired of being left behind.  I’m sorry for wanting to be included when you are off balance and confused.  You might need space – but I want to be there for you.”  He rubbed his head, and cupped the back of his neck.  “I want you to want me to be there for you.” 

“I don’t think I need space,” Avexis sat up and draped her legs over his lap. He traced a slender calf with his hand, up and over, and behind her knee, and she shivered, trapping his fingers in the hollow.  “Stop that.  I’m trying to get something out.”  She shrugged now, echoing his gesture, but somehow making it Orlesian.  “I’ve been doing this – running - for a very long time.  Longer than I really remember.  I don’t know if I can stop.   I don’t know how.”  She looked away.

Cullen swallowed, “If this is going to work, you’re going to have to learn. You can’t just keep – shutting me out - leaving me to wonder if you’re going to come back **.** ”

“I know.” She shook her head.  “I want this.  I want you.  Do you understand?  I just… don’t know how to face things, properly.”  She shifted to be even closer to him.  “I barely understand why you want me around in the first place, much less with all the shitty – comment dit-on – luggage?  Is that it?”

“Baggage,” he corrected gently.

“Baggage, then, that I bring with me. I keep thinking that you’ll finally have enough and… and move on, because you can’t take it.”

“So you run first? To keep me from doing the leaving?”  He snorted, “The only thing that has made me think about leaving you is that you keep taking off at the worst moments.”

Avexis shrugged, again, looking away. “I didn’t say it made sense.”  Her voice was full of tears.

“Still, I think I understand.” Cullen squeezed her knee.  “I’m not excusing it.  But I understand.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“How could I be disappointed? You have no control over where you were born, or how, or with what gifts.”

“It’s not just about your disapproval. If we… continue this,” Avexis wrapped her arms around her legs, drawn up to her chest, “You have a family – sisters, a brother.  Cullen - there’s no room for me.  What will they think?”

“They will think, that somehow, their idiot brother lucked out and found a way to make the most beautiful and powerful woman in the world fall for him.” He snorted, still occupying his fingers in the hollow of her knee. “Bran will throw me a party.  Mia will wonder aloud what on Thedas you see in me.  I don’t know Ros well, but I can’t imagine she’ll be much different.  They’ll be in awe.  Do you honestly think there isn’t room for that?”

“I’m an elf. An ex-slave _Tevinter_ elf raised in an _Orlesian_ Circle, involved romantically with a Fereldan ex-Templar.  An ex-slave Tevinter mage elf raised in Orlais who does weird, incomprehensible magical shit with a mark on her hand, hears dragons, and raises the dead.  I won’t fit with them.”  Avexis pressed her lips together, “What would we possibly have in common?  I can’t do anything practical - Sigrid called me a child, I’m so-” she changed tacks suddenly, “Do your sisters knit?”

“Of course they knit. Branson, too. Where do you think I learned? And you’re the woman I love.  You fit with me.” Cullen reached over and pulled her fully onto his hap.  “If they hate you, I just won’t talk to them for another ten years or so, until they get over it.  Or not.  You don’t have to run from who you are, or be something you’re not.”

Avexis shook her head, “You make not running sound so simple. ‘Just don’t run.’  ‘My family will love you, or I’ll ignore them.’”  She tilted her head to look at him, “I know you want a relationship with them.  You’ll resent me.  If I come between you, you’ll never be a family again – and I know you want that.”

“I’ll resent them for being fools,” Cullen contradicted. “And you aren’t really worried about my family right now.  They aren’t here, Avexis.  Quit borrowing trouble.”  He coughed.  “I was really hoping we could break away, before you had to investigate the earthquakes.  Go back to Honnleath.  Or even South Reach.  But-”

“I’m not ready to meet them, even if we had the time.” Avexis curled up against his chest. “No rest for the wicked, isn’t that what you said in Haven?”  She sighed, “I’ve been thinking about Haven a lot lately.”

Cullen sighed, and pulled her hair back away from her neck so he could kiss it again. “It will be all right, Ladybird.”

“So says the man who doesn’t have a foreign mark on his hand. So says the man who doesn’t have to go help Orzamaar.”  Avexis sniffed.  “The Deep Roads, oui?”

Cullen shuddered. “I’m trying not to think about it.”  He puzzled for a moment about why she had brought up the mark now – but noticed it was sparking.  “Is your mark…”

Avexis shifted to straddle his lap. “I don’t want to think about the mark right now.”

“Just like that?” He smirked.  “Finished talking, have we?  We haven’t solved this, Ladybird.”  He touched her lower lip and she mocked nipping at his finger.  “You leave, and I wait.  What’s to stop you from never coming back?”

Avexis drooped, “My word?”

Cullen shook his head, and the next words came slow. “I trust you, love, but I need more than that.”

Avexis stood up, “I don’t know what else I can offer.” Her hand tugged at her braid – something far more complicated than he had seen before – perhaps this ‘Sigrid’s’ influence?  “I want to stop, I can say I will, but it’s all just words.  I don’t know what will happen the next time.”  She breathed, chest heaving, as she forced the words out, “I can face Nightmare demons in the Fade-”

“You ran from that, too. Justice faced it, in the end.”

She frowned, “Very well, I just killed an Avvar god in the body of a dragon. That counts for something, n’est-ce pas?  It should count twice – once for the demon and once for the dragon.  I faced Corypheus-”

“You were a dragon most of the time.”

“Not at the end, I wasn’t. And it doesn’t matter how big I was, I was still me, and still terrified.”

“Am I scarier than either of those?” Cullen couldn’t stop himself. “Why run from me, if you can face them?”

Avexis’ lip trembled, and he wished he could take it back. “I – I don’t know.”

“I know why,” He sighed, and rubbed his neck. “The truth is, you never learned.”

She snapped, “I never learned what?”

“How to stay. Relationships in the circle are fleeting, at best.”  Cullen took her hand, relieved she allowed him to touch her.  He squeezed her hand.  “Ladybird, we spend most of our time separated.  The longest stretch we’ve had together since we met was traveling home after Adamant.  We need time together.”

“And we don’t have it,” her voice was so small.

“We have what we have now,” Cullen traced her hand with his thumb. “Let’s use it.  It’s not enough,” he smiled, “I could never have enough.”  Avexis’ lips turned back up, though her lower was still trying to tremble.  He drew her closer, between his legs, and pulled her down to meet him.  His mouth met hers again, but more gently this time, allowing himself to sink into the contact.

“Maker, I missed you,” he sighed, drew back, and stood. “On reflection, I believe there is a perfectly functional bed upstairs.  Would you care to join me and my aching joints in a more comfortable location than the surface of my desk, Milady Inquisitor?”

She giggled, and squeezed his hand, violet eyes casting shyly up from through her eyelashes. “I thought you’d never ask.”  She looked up at him, “Are we all right, Cullen?

He sighed, “For now. This is new to both of us, but I’ve at least seen my parents managing to function.  You don’t have that.  You’ve been running since you were six, from one thing to another.  But I’ve been up front with you from the start, Avexis.  I don’t want some fling that ends with the Inquisition.”

“Neither do I.”

“Then I need to be patient.”

“And I need to be brave.” She sounded the opposite.  “I’ll work on it.”

“That’s all I ask.” He grinned.  “I have a surprise for you.”  He gestured upstairs.  “Do you want to go find it?”

Avexis eyed him sideways, and then smiled. “Oui.  I love presents.”  He couldn’t resist bending down and kissing her again, but she slipped away and climbed the ladder, him close behind.

“In the bags,” Cullen advised from halfway up. “Rylen’s report on Storvacker indicated-"

Avexis’ squeal of delight cut him off. “Cullen!  You amazing man!  You didn’t brush her, did you?”

“…Perhaps.” Cullen admitted, leaning on his arms at the top of the ladder.  “She seemed to enjoy it, after the first few minutes.”  The scars would be most impressive, but the bear had seemed regretful, after, as she rolled to let him reach her stomach.  “The first half bag was just her seasonal shedding.  She likes to rub against my furniture.  But it was driving Josie mad the way I was going around and plucking the hair off everything.  So she sent for the curry brush.”

“Do you know how expensive Storvacker hair is?” She beamed at him.  “I have to ask Sigrid how to spin it.  It’s too coarse not to blend…”

Cullen climbed the rest of the way. “Can it wait for a little while?”

Avexis hesitated, but closed the sack. “Of course.”  She rose up, gracefully.  “I have to thank the nice man for such a lovely gift, after all.”  She walked her fingers up his chest, and cupped his jaw.  “What would show my appreciation?”

Cullen drew her closer. “You already have.”  He leaned against her forehead, “You’re here.”


	12. Force, Fights, and Other Failings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had this as two chapters in my original draft, but I really think they work better together. Hope I'm right.

> _My dear child,_
> 
> _I simply had to write, to tell you how proud I am of your wise decision. Cassandra is by far the best candidate for Divine, and will, with the Inquisition’s backing, emerge triumphant over the mage rebels, and restore everything that has been lost._
> 
> _I admit, I was worried that you would misuse your influence, or neglect the weight of your responsibility entirely. But as your new Grand Enchanter, I am happy to assure you that your choice will have little impact on your life at all.  I told you once that the Inquisitor is above the Circle – and nothing has changed with the election of this new Divine.  I’ve written your Commander to formally give him my permission for you to live outside of the Circle.  You’ll be missed at Montsimmard, my dear – I had so hoped you would accept the role of First Enchanter there - but a short trip to Skyhold is nothing for me, when you need my guidance.  I am choosing to remain in Val Royeaux myself – it’s better to be central, don’t you agree?_
> 
> _Rest easy, as well, knowing that those who are calling for the renewal of your Rite are safely under my thumb. There is nothing to fear._
> 
> _Cordially,_
> 
> _Grand Enchanter Vivienne_

Avexis made her way to the shrine in the courtyard, her mind troubled by the letter in her hand. She slipped into the room, and went to kneel before Andraste.  “Through all around me is darkness,” she began, until a scoffing voice interrupted her.  She spun around, magic at her fingertips, but it was too late. 

Force magic shoved Avexis into the wall, hard enough to make her ears ring.

“What the fuck do you think you’re playing at!”

“Bethany?” Avexis’ head spun, her cheek pressed into the stone.  “I thought you were a healer.”

“Hang around Anders long enough, you learn a few tricks,” the woman narrowed her eyes. “We avoided capture by the Templars for years after the explosion. And you’re deflecting.  You backed Seeker Cassandra as Divine.  The woman who threatened Varric with a knife through his book.  You’ve doomed us to losing everything we’ve built, everything we fought for.”  Her voice cracked, and then firmed, mocking and mean.  “Oh, but it doesn’t matter, does it, Your Worship?  Because you’re _special_.  Your best friend will be Divine, you’re fucking the Commander of your own private army.  Your life is grand.  But what about the rest of us?  You get to be the Inquisitor, the holy hero, with special favors and privileges.  Mages like me – we’re the ones who lose.  We get shoved back into the box.  What about my husband?  How long do you think it will take them to make him Tranquil?  Do you even care?  I’ll never get to see my niece or nephew grow up.  I’ll lose him – we’ll be in separate Circles, because mages _can’t fucking marry_.  We won’t even be able to write, for fear of being made Tranquil.  I know you know the story.  But you don’t care, you’ll have it all, and all it cost was everything for everyone else!”

“Cassandra won’t- “

“Like the VOID she won’t!” Bethany collapsed into a pew, but Avexis still couldn’t move.  “You know, I shouldn’t be surprised.  You weren’t even brave enough before the Blight to face your own talents, you coward.  You elected Tranquility, to save yourself from yourself.  You weren’t smart enough to realize what you were losing.”  Her eyes narrowed at the Inquisitor.  “You still don’t realize, do you?  You don’t have anyone you care about. You have nothing to lose. I won’t be a part of my own family because of this.  I was taken away from them once, by the very man you’re fucking.  Did he tell you about that?  I wonder, will you let me say ‘good-bye’ at least, or will the Templars just break down the door to the infirmary at midnight?”

“I was manipulated,” Avexis began. “And Cullen isn’t-”

“Oh, you’re full of excuses,” her sneer was potent. “Convenient, that you can justify your mistakes from the actions of other people.  Most of us don’t have that privilege.  I own my mistakes.  I joined the Circle, thinking it was better – my mother would be safer, there would be more money to go around, without an extra mouth to feed at Gamlen’s.  I’d get more training.  My sister wouldn’t have to bribe Templars to keep me home.”  She fiddled with a string at the edge of her healer’s robe, eyes distant, but her magic still strong enough to hold Avexis still.  “She still thinks I don’t know what she did, to buy my freedom in Kirkwall for so long.  I don’t think Fenris knows, either.  We didn’t have any money.  What’s more, I knew she would continue to do it. If the right Templars didn’t want the money she could offer when she got back, she’d find another way.  That’s why I left.  That’s why I lied about how happy and content I was there.  Oh yes, Cullen kept me safe in the nightmare, and he didn’t ask what other Templars would have.  Small blessings.  I’ve faced my mistake, Inquisitor.  I’ve spent years now, fighting and teaching other mages to fight to make up for it.”  Her lips pressed together.  “When are you going to face yours?” 

“I have- “

“The Void you have,” Bethany sighed and released her from the wall. Avexis lowered, all at once, slumping to her knees on the floor.  “I won’t go back, Avexis.”  She knew better than to relax at the use of her given name.  “I won’t.  Anders once told me he’d drown us all in blood to keep us safe.”  She looked away.  “I was horrified.  He wouldn’t say something like that idly.  But that was before my sister was pregnant.  That was before I was allowed to be happy.  I would do anything to protect my sister’s child.  I would do anything to protect the people I love.”  She lifted her chin, “If that means that I start another mage war to fight for my freedom, then I will.  I know Anders will fight with me.”  She frowned, “I’m afraid, that without certain concessions, my husband and I will need to leave the Inquisition, Inquisitor.  I hope you’ll understand.”

“Cassandra isn’t going to- “

Bethany shook her head, a bitter smile on her face. “I am an intelligent, educated woman.  I know a lie when I hear it.” 

“She told me things would change,” Avexis tried. She had to try.  “We learned things, in the Frostbacks, about how far the Chantry had fallen from where we used to be.  Ameridan told us.  Tranquility was never supposed to be a punishment, Cassandra knows that.  Mages used to work with the Seekers.  She’s bringing that back.  The Circles won’t be what we knew.  They’ll be cooperative.  Educational.  They won’t be prisons.  They’ll be voluntary.” 

Bethany closed her eyes. “I want to believe you.  But with Vivienne as Grand Enchanter…”

“Please, stay, and see. I won’t let Vivienne take this from us.”  Avexis reached out her hand, but pulled it back before she could touch her.  “You’re not the only one who has found something better.”

“Waiting risks our lives,” Bethany’s voice was dull. “Anders has risked enough for you.”  She pulled away.  “I’ll give you what time I can.  The first sign of increased Templar ‘protection’ around Skyhold, and we’re gone.  You won’t get another warning.  The Mage Collective is still active.  Be careful, or you’ll wake up one morning with no one left to fight for you.”  The woman slipped out of the shrine, not a hair out of place to indicate that she’d been doing anything but praying.

Avexis opened her mouth to protest, but closed it again, to turn and follow her, now too conflicted to recite the Chant herself. Her hand crumpled the letter, furious, and she turned to the door. 

Her feet were already running – for once towards Cullen’s office, stomach sinking. ‘Give him my permission’, indeed.  He wasn’t a Templar, watching over her.  She wasn’t subject to a Grand Enchanter any longer.  Vivienne held no power –

Except that she did. And Avexis had given it to her.  All it took for a mage to become Tranquil was the approval of her First Enchanter, and the Templar Knight-Commander, of her Circle.  All the rules about not making Harrowed mages Tranquil – they’d been discarded before. 

By her. “Maker, what have I done…” she burst into Cullen’s office, to find him frowning at his own letter.  “Is that from Vivienne, perchance?”  The light tone she was trying for failed miserably.

“Something like that.” He glanced at her, and then away, flushing.  “She’s given you permission to live outside of the Circle.  Why she’s directing such a thing to me-”

“Don’t you understand?” Avexis’ voice broke on the last word. “She has the right to bring me home.  She sees you as my Templar escort, the sort required when a mage leaves the Circle on official business.  She is gracing the entire Inquisition with her approbation, hoping to claim responsibility for a small portion of our success.” 

“Montsimmard isn’t your home. And I am not a Templar.”

“Trivial details to her,” Avexis said before changing the subject. “Did she mention this?” She waved her own letter.  “Unnamed people are still calling for my Rite.  She insinuates that if I fall in line, she’ll keep it from happening.”

Cullen grabbed the parchment, lip curled. “Not if I can help it.”

“Can you?” Avexis’ voice rose in panic, and her hair sparked, rising gently. “Can either of us stop it?”

“The only reason you were made Tranquil before is that you gave consent. You’re Harrowed.  We know you can’t be possessed,” Cullen reminded her, eyebrows drawn tight together.  “Any reason there might have been for you to be rendered Tranquil ended with the restoration of your memories.”

“The only reason I was made Tranquil before is because she gave me the option!” Avexis snatched the letter back from him and then threw it out the window. “I won’t be manipulated again.”  She trembled, with fear, with anger.

“You’re dismissing your own responsibility in the matter,” Cullen’s voice cut in harshly. “You asked for the Rite.  You were afraid.  You did what you did to protect yourself and the people around you.  It was a hard choice, but a choice you made.”

Avexis choked, “You sound like you approve.”

Cullen hesitated, looking away. “I – I would have.  Once.” 

“Non,” Avexis shook her head. “No, you said-”

Cullen closed his eyes, and then opened them again. “Yes, I would have agreed with it.  It’s who I was – and I’m still that man.  You don’t have to like it – fuck, I don’t like it!  But as much as we both wish we could leave our past choices behind, we are still the people who made those choices!  You said that, in your letter.  For me lyrium is a convenient scapegoat, but the lyrium didn’t give me new thoughts.  It just took away the compassion I might have felt without it.  Tranquility is a similar scapegoat for you.”  He scowled, “You wanted to escape, at any cost.  I would have seen the danger of a powerful, unusual mage on the edge of panic.  We both would have made the same choice.”  He dragged his hands over his face, missing Avexis slowly backing away.  “It is fortunate, perhaps, that we were in different countries when you made the decision.”

“You said before – back in Haven – that you would have disagreed.” _Don’t run,_ she ordered herself, and her feet stopped moving.  “What changed?”

“I wanted to believe that. I still want to believe that, but- damn it!  I want a future with you. We can’t have that until we’re honest with ourselves… and each other.  We both have to stop running.  I run from myself, trying to be better, trying to be who you want me to be. Who I wanted to be when I was younger. I’ve been lying to myself, and I can’t be honest with you until that stops.  You said once that you just want me to love you as Avexis.  I want the same.  I’m just Cullen – a flawed man who has made mistakes.  I won’t run from that anymore.  Even if it means I lose you to the truth.”

Avexis shook her head, hand on the door latch. “You aren’t the man I thought you were, if-” 

Cullen dropped his hands. “You’re running again, aren’t you?”  

Her hand let go of the door handle. “I’m still here.” 

“For now.” His voice broke.  “We both have to face it sometime, Ladybird.  Uldred didn’t change me.  I’m still me.  Cole told me that – he would know, wouldn’t he?  I’m still me, good and bad.  Human.  People.  And so are you.”  His voice was tired.  “The lyrium didn’t make me fuck up.  I fucked up and the lyrium hid the consequences.”

She opened the door, slipped through, but instead of closing it, leaned her head against the door frame, listening and watching. 

He called out, “So, I’ll just stay here then, shall I? Again.  Waiting for you to wake up and realize that nothing about yourself has changed except your perspective.”  He grabbed the water bottle at the edge of his desk, lifted it to throw it at the door, and then gently, set it back down, to pick up the small Mabari next to it instead.  Papers no longer weighted down by the figure blew away and off his desk.  Avexis let go, and backed away, eyes sad.  “I’ll be here, Ladybird.  Waiting.”  He looked again at the letter in his hand, the Grand Enchanter’s elegant script apparent on every line.  “Fighting for you.  Like I always do.”

 

<DT>

 

Avexis turned her feet towards Dorian’s room when he wasn’t in the library, waiting for her to vent.

He would comfort her. Dorian was a friend.  A friend, who, like her, had nowhere else to go.  He’d always be there for her.  Always.

“I hear you’ve been fighting with Hot Templar.” Dorian’s hands were busy, folding items meticulously. “Trouble in paradise?”

“The rumor mill around Skyhold is entirely too efficient.” Dorian nodded, and Avexis frowned.  “Dorian, why in the world are you packing so much?  We can’t take all of that into the Deep Roads.” 

Dorian’s hands paused, resting on the hat she’d made him, and then continued. “I’m not going to the Deep Roads.  I’m going to Tevinter.” 

“What?” Avexis sat down.  “You aren’t going with me?  What about Bull?”

“He understands. I need to visit with Mae – she’s going to meet me in the capital.  We’re going to start a new faction – a political party to counteract the remnants of the Venatori.”  He lifted his eyes, creased with weariness.  “I know, I should have told you before.  I’m not… used to having someone who cares when I’m leaving.  Bull ferreted it out, or he wouldn’t know either.  I didn’t hide it on purpose.  And he told me I had to tell you.  He called it ‘ghosting’.”  His fingers toyed with the tassel on the hat.  “And… I’m sorry.  For being so…” he shrugged, elegant as ever.  “Me.  I suppose.  But my use in the Deep Roads, vs. my use to you in Minrathrous -”

“What about your father?”

Dorian barked a laugh, “He hasn’t disowned me yet. Maker knows why.  And yes, I’ll have to see him, however we both dislike the necessity.  But,” he looked at the hat again.  “You are my dearest friend, and I want to help you.  This will help more than me fighting my way through darkspawn, and I’m no Earth mage to stop Thedas from shaking.”  He placed the hat on top of his trunk, and went to his wardrobe to fetch another stack of robes.  “I will come back, bella donna.  It shouldn’t take much longer than perhaps a month of hard work.  I’m just going to help Mae get started, be the poster boy for our new cause, and then I swear, I’ll come back.”

Avexis frowned, “I don’t like being the one left behind.” 

“Then you should quit running away.” Dorian’s voice echoed from the inside of the massive wardrobe.  “Horribly discombobulating for those you keep abandoning, you know.  Just think about how we all must feel!”  He tutted disapprovingly.

“I don’t run away like this.” 

Dorian’s snort echoed as well. “Bella donna, if you were any more of a runaway, you’d be coming with me to Minrathrous.”  He peered over his shoulder, eyes wide with alarm.  “That is not an option.  You are not coming with me to Minrathous.  Full stop.  Somebody would remember a slave child with purple eyes.  You’re not taking that risk.” 

Avexis folded her arms over her chest, ignoring the sparking of her palm. “I didn’t intend to.  Orzamaar, remember?  I have a duty.”

Dorian’s voice was gentle, “Hiding behind duty is just a different type of running, my dear. I know that excuse all too well.  I’d love to know how you really intend to stop earthquakes?  Natural or not, it seems a bit of a goose chase to me.” 

“I have to try. Orzamaar is an ally of the Inquisition.”

“I know, but…” Dorian’s mouth curled up, “The rest of us need to attend other matters. The Inquisition cannot stop here.”  He groaned, straightening up with clothes stacked clear to his chin.  “I’m going to need another trunk.”

Avexis stood, “I’ll have one sent up.” 

Dorian dropped the clothes on his bed, and grabbed her arm. “Avexis, I – I want to you know I don’t particularly want to do this.  It just needs to be done.  By someone.  Who happens to be me.  Please understand?”

“Lots of things have to be done by me,” Avexis tried for a smile, and failed. “I’ll be fine, Dorian.  I’ll have Bull, and Cole.  And Thom.  And Sigrid, if she’ll come.”   She shrugged.  “All will be well.” 

“It better be,” Dorian smiled. “And might I add, that you should make up with your Hot Templar before you leave.”

Avexis hesitated at the door, “I don’t know if there’s any making up to be done. He told me he would have thought my Rite a good idea, if he’d been at Montsimmard.  I can’t accept that.”

“Oh, yes, unforgivable to be honest about the ancient past.” Dorian snorted.  “I seem to recall you agreeing, in that same past.  Your agreement did allow the Rite to be carried through with, correct?”

“I do not agree.”

“Now, you don’t.” Dorian sighed.  “Gorgeous girl, you’re fighting because he would have agreed with you in the past, and agrees with you in the present.  How in all of Thedas does that make sense?  Bull and I have better fights about how to apply his horn balm.  And I don’t even use the damn stuff.” 

“We don’t agree! He would have made me Tranquil!”

“No, you would have yourself made Tranquil, and he wouldn’t have stopped it. There is a difference. I don’t see him marching over here with the brand now.  Do you?”  Dorian made a move towards the window.  “Tsk, how disappointing.  Just a runner, with, no doubt, another lovely stack of letters for the Inquisitor to read through, curse at, and toss out the window.”

“Vivienne’s letter was un sac de la merde…” There was no point in asking how he knew she’d thrown it away.

“I quite agree.” Dorian turned back to his packing.  “It belongs where you tossed it.  But rest assured, she knows exactly what she’s doing, sowing such tribulation between you and your loved ones.  Madame de Fer’s memory is long, and she needs to get you under her thumb again.  What good is it being Grand Enchanter when a more important mage is running about freely? How better than to sever you from everyone you care about, than by immuring you in the Circle tower, like some princess from a fairy tale?  It is the Game, dearest. You only win if you knock the other players off the board.”  He narrowed his eyes, “What you need is a better player.”

“Who? Leliana?”

“Perfect!” Dorian beamed at her. “Go talk to your spymaster, then.  Scurry along now.  I can’t concentrate when you’re reminding me how much I’m going to miss you.  And silk creases terribly, without the proper attention paid to it.  I refuse to fail in my self-appointed quest due to wrinkles.  What will all the potential rebels think of me?” 

He waited until she had left the room to wipe the tears from the corner of his eyes.

 

<DT>

 

Avexis, not sure where else to turn, took his advice, and went by the spymaster’s aerie, but Cullen had beaten her there. She pressed herself against the wall by the stairwell, listening to her lover speaking low and urgently with the woman.

“You didn’t see her face, Leliana.”

“I don’t have to. She’s not the only person impacted by Ser Cullen’s opinions.”  Leliana’s hand rested on a folded letter of her own, well read, if Avexis could judge by the deep creases.

Cullen’s eyes followed her hand. “A letter from Neria – I mean, Warden Commander Surana?”  Avexis’ long-hidden jealousy stabbed her as deep as one of the spymaster’s knives. 

“Yes.” Leliana’s voice was gentle, fond, though her face was shadowed.  “I’ve been – keeping her posted.  She was a friend of yours, too, long ago, wasn’t she?  I wrote, when it became apparent that I would likely not be made Divine.  She professes to be relieved – and surprised.  She claims she always believed I was destined for the role.”  Leliana’s laugh echoed through the rafters, causing several ravens to make a startled escape.  “Apparently, I have been missed.  Avexis’ backing of Cassandra makes it possible for me to meet her, once I’m no longer needed here.”  She stroked it with a single finger.  “I’m more tempted than I should admit, despite the number of duties that separate us.”  The woman glanced at Cullen, and then slipped her hood back, giving Avexis the rare gift of seeing her face.  “During the Blight, we promised each other that we’d travel the world together.  We were younger, then, but… perhaps there is still time.”  Her voice was still gentle, as she continued.  “There was some youthful infatuation on your parts, wasn’t there?”

“It was a long time ago,” Cullen sighed. “Before certain – mistakes.  I said horrible things.  I would apologize, if it mattered.”  He snorted, “I would be eternally apologizing, if it made any difference to any one I care about.  But how often can you apologize for something, before you realize it doesn’t matter, because it’s already been said?”

Leliana’s eyes softened, “Mistakes. Yes.”  She hummed melodically, an old elven tune, before laughing.  “We all make them.  Neria will be relieved to hear that you’ve grown so, Commander.”

“Have I?” His own voice croaked like one of her ravens.  “Have I, Leliana?”

“What makes you think you haven’t?” Leliana’s mouth twisted, in humor.  “I read the letters from Vivienne.  I have the matter well in hand.  Vivienne’s attempt at subverting the Inquisitor’s influence will come to nothing.  The Circle has no power right now.  Even with a Grand Enchanter, the College is reforming with far less influence than she would prefer.  And there are no Templars of any number to enforce a Grand Enchanter’s will.  If she turns loyalist mage against rebel mage, the Inquisition lays between – headed by a former loyalist that no longer holds those tenets close.  No one is more of a rebel than someone who has realized what they were missing.”

Avexis slumped against the side of the stairs, eyes closed. 

“That is… true. Still, Avexis is – distraught.  And I couldn’t comfort her.  I refuse to lie to her any longer about who I used to be.  No – who I still am.”  Cullen leaned against the wooden door that led outside, head to the splintered wood.  “If I have changed, it is by choice, by intention.  But I’m still the same person, deep down.  Aren’t I?” 

Avexis twisted sideways to see him better, and caught Leliana’s eyes, knowing and wise. The spymaster smiled.  “Yes.  And no.  Avexis sees who you are – and who you were.  She just – doesn’t know herself.  Not really.  It’s not you she can’t forgive, Cullen.  It’s the foolish, nearsighted girl she once was.”  Leliana stroked the letter again.  “We were all such fools, ten years ago.  Neria thought the Fereldan court could overlook a ménage a trois made up of an elven mage Warden, the king, and an Orlesian spy.  ‘Kings can do whatever they like’, she said.  I thought that our lives would never pull us apart – in six months she was the Warden Commander and I was at the Divine’s side.  Alistair still believes that love will find a way, and he’ll reunite with the two of us, that wonderful man; he believes Ferelden will find another man to be King, before he leaves for his Calling, and we’ll spend his and Neria’s twilight years together.  For that matter, Neria believes she will find a Cure, and that neither of them will die at all.”  She laughed again, a sweet trill.  “Such an idealist, under that sharp exterior.”  She shrugged, “But who am I to say that she’s wrong?  I’ve been wrong many, many times.”

Cullen lifted his head from the wall. “She might succeed.  She’s the second most determined woman I’ve ever met.”

“You like determined women,” Leliana’s smile was lovely. “So do I.”  Her eyes twinkled at Avexis, and she had a scarce moment to flatten herself against the wall before Cullen turned to follow the spymaster’s gaze.  “I will do everything I can to assist you both.”  She tapped the letter thoughtfully.  “Neria is above the Circle, the Wardens prevent her return, but – she wasn’t always so protected.  There was a time her life hung in the balance between Tranquility and the Grey Wardens.  Her choice was made for her - conscription.   I will fight for you both, in her memory.”

Avexis backed down the stairs, slowly, trying to be silent, before turning and retreating once more, her head spinning. 

After that, she didn’t have any reason to speak to her spymaster. Leliana, indeed, had the matter well in hand.  Cullen was indeed, fighting for her. 

And she needed to think. About not being alone.  About having people who cared.  About people that understood what it meant to be a mage in a world that feared first.

 

<DT>

 

“I thank you, Leliana,” Cullen cast his eyes back towards the stairs, where the spymaster kept looking. “Is someone-”

“Not any longer, and no one we need worry about,” she turned away. “Cullen, I know you’re impatient with her.  I am, too.  Most of Skyhold is just waiting to see what Avexis will do with her freedom.  She has barely started to realize that she is free, yes?  But fighting with her – as much as it hurts – helps her see things clearly.”  She coughed, “Alistair is the same way, I’m sorry to say.  Neria hated to stomp on him to get him to wake up. She always said it was like kicking a puppy, but she found it necessary. It happened too many times, and she hated the necessity.”

“I would never allow her to be made Tranquil again.”

“I know that. And she knows that.  But what happens if they try?”  Leliana spun abruptly, putting him off center and leaning too close for comfort.  “Even without a confirmed Divine, there is already a call for an Exalted Council.  The devout want a March, Cullen, someone to blame for the deaths and turmoil.  Avexis might be the only person standing in the way.  People want to scapegoat Tevinter for the Breach, for Corypheus.  It would be a minor thing to shift the blame, center the spotlight on the Inquisitor instead – to blame our savior for our problems, for not making the world perfect.” 

“Thedas has never been perfect. And Minrathous has never been taken. I’d rather try to lay siege to Redcliffe than attempt it.”

“Exactly. If Minrathous were conquered, Andraste would not have burned,” Leliana’s voice was too light.  “Take care your Ladybird doesn’t end the same way.”

“No one would-” Cullen swallowed the bile in his throat. “The Chantry hasn’t burned anyone in 4 ages.”

“They wouldn’t dare right now. But ask that question again in a year.”  Leliana rolled her eyes, “I know better than anyone that popularity is fleeting.  How many people idolized Wardens ten years ago, just to demand their exile after Corypheus’ false Calling?  How many people supported Gaspard as the rightful Emperor of Orlais, just to turn tail and swear to Celene to keep their titles and lands?”

Cullen blanched. “I… see.”  He glanced down.  “I need to write a reply to Vivienne.”

“Oh, please, allow me,” Leliana plucked the letter from his hand. “I have a few key truths to impart to our Madame de Fer.”  She eyed him sideways, “And you have an Inquisitor to hunt down and confront.  Don’t take your time together for granted, Cullen.  You never know when it will be cut short.  Make it good.  Give her what she needs – even if it’s a fight.  Make her _think_.”

He turned, obediently, to descend the stairs, to try to find his Ladybird.

 


	13. Searches, Thoughts, and Not-Quite-Goodbyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW - hard to dodge this time - sorry. I'll do better next time.

“The Inquisitor?” Josie blinked.  “Why yes, she was here, but she’s been half an hour gone, at the very least.  She was going to speak to Sera, I believe, about their departure being set for early next week.”

Cullen frowned, secretly relieved. Early next week was three days away – that didn’t suggest that she was running at top speed.  Out of character.  Perhaps she meant it, that she would try?  Still, this was his sixth stop.  Dorian had answered him from under a massive pile of clothing that he was trying to cram into what looked like his third trunk.  “Dorian didn’t say anything about that.  He was deep into packing for an immediate departure.”

“Oh, didn’t Avexis tell you? Dorian has made arrangements to travel home, into Tevinter.”  Josie was already fussing with her next task.  “He will not be accompanying Avexis into the Deep Roads.  He’s leaving with the caravan to Jader tomorrow morning.”

“I see.” Cullen stifled his surprise.  “I didn’t know.”  He didn’t like the idea of Avexis going anywhere without Dorian… especially now that Cassandra and Varric had both departed.

“I understand it to be a recent decision,” Josie waved him goodbye, and he left, confused, to track down Sera.

“Quizzy was here, yeah? But she left, when I told her I had to go to the Free Marches, to check up on my friends.”  Sera was stuffing what looked like random articles and knickknacks into a knapsack.  “With Varric’s butt warming the Viscount’s throne, I gotta make sure I’ve got someone to keep him humble.  Or he’s gonna go all braggy about always being where the stories are.”  She shuddered, “I could do with a few less stories these days.  That Hakkon, she was a nasty one.  Wonder if they always talk to Quizzy like that?  ‘I am the cold breath of Winter!  Blah, blah, fuck you.’”

Cullen choked, “Hakkon spoke – and you could understand her?”

“We all could,” Sera snorted. “Something I could live without doing again, you know?”

“I imagine so,” Cullen watched her for a few more seconds. “Do you know where she went?”

“To check on the new abomination, demon person, thingie,” Sera grimaced. “Collecting them, ain’t she?  Up to three now… The new one’s nice enough, cooks a treat, but still a demon.  Don’t let her fool you.  Why they have to make themselves so frickin’ useful, I don’t understand.  Haven’t eaten like that ever.”  She poked at her prominent ribs.  “Nearly couldn’t see these anymore, when we got back.”

Cullen cleared his throat, “Where…”

“I think she was setting her up over the garden. Away from most of the noise, yeah?”  Sera shrugged.  “Not my problem.  I’m out of here.”  She hoisted her bag to her shoulder.  “See ya when I see ya,” and shoved past him through the door.  “Be back whenever?  Don’t give my room away.”

Cullen wandered back into the Great Hall, and up the stairs, and out to the wing over the garden. He could hear Avexis’ voice, wavering.  “They’re all leaving, Sigrid.  I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“You’re going to keep going. People leave, people come back. It’s part of life,” a practical voice drifted back.  “I’m not going anywhere.  I’ve got no place to go.”

“That’s what I thought about Dorian, but…”

“Him?” Cullen hid a smile at the new voice’s snort.  “He’ll be fine.”  It reminded him of Mia.  “Why are you even here?  Don’t you have a lover to cozy up to before we disappear for weeks?  I know if I had the option, I wouldn’t be here in this fancy room talking to you.”  Her voice paused.  “Ser Rainier isn’t leaving, is he?”

“No, Thom is coming with us,” Avexis admitted, slowly.  Cullen raised his eyebrows at the insinuation.  “He’ll be useful.  He… has a lot of experience with darkspawn.”

“Oh, he told me he was no Warden,” the other woman sniffed. “Trying to convince me of something.  Not sure what.  Did the job long enough, didn’t he?  What’s a Warden, otherwise?”

“There’s a ritual.”

“There’s always a ritual.” Cullen stifled his shudder, lifted his hand, and rapped on the door.  “Answer that, will you?  Sure, and it’s for you, not me.  Who do I know, in this place?”  He heard some odd whirring, and steps approaching the door.  It swung open, showing a surprised Avexis.

“Cullen- I mean, Commander. I didn’t expect-” Her cheeks pinked, and she couldn’t meet his eyes.  “Commander Cullen, this is Sig-”

“Oh, is that him?” The other voice turned out to be a tanned, kind eyed woman, younger than she sounded from her voice.  “Easy on the eyes, the Seeker said. She wasn’t lying about that. The Inquisitor’s lover, hmmm?  Come to track her down, find out where’s she’s been all day?”  She smiled, tightlipped, “Good, you can take her off my hands.  She’s in a whiny mood, and I’m busy.”  She waved her hand at the bags of Storvacker wool just to the left of a spinning wheel.  “She’s been no help, despite her claims to knowing how.” 

Cullen had the pleasure of seeing Avexis flush a vivid red from her collarbone up to the tips of her ears. “That would be me.”  He bowed, slightly.  “You must be Sigrid.  Avexis told me she had a new companion.  She’s spoken highly of you.”

“Something like that.” The woman turned shy, hiding behind thick hair, hanging loose into the practical hooded tunic she wore.  “I am - I was the Augur’s apprentice.  We’re… we’ve made a deal.  Avvar magic for Circle magic.”  Her eyes were calculating, “She says you used to be one of those Templars.  Heard of them.  Never met one, before.  Your type doesn’t tend to hike through Avvar territory often.”  She pursed her lips, eyes judging him silently.  “You don’t look all that bad.  She says you’ve been sick.”  She frowned, “You look tired, not ill.”

“The symptoms come and go. I’m quite well, today,” Cullen managed a polite smile, and then transferred his attention to Avexis, the expression warming as she met his eyes, with a slight smile of her own.  She looked… relieved.  “I’m glad, since so many are leaving, that she’ll have someone to depend on.  I’ve been… concerned about her.”

Sigrid nodded into her spinning wheel. “Yep. She said you were the worrying sort.”

“It’s foolish, considering how capable she is.”

“It’s kind,” the Avvar woman corrected. “She’s got precious few people fretting about her.  Especially now that Seeker Cassandra is gone.  Fine timing to go off and head up your religion, when the world is shaking itself loose at the roots.  I would have just said ‘No.’  As many times as it took to be heard.  You people seem to have a problem with that. Duty is all well and good, I suppose, so long as some common sense goes along with it.  And she’s not capable at anything outside of a fight.”

Avexis made a pained noise. Cullen’s mouth twitched.  “I admit – I would feel better if that hadn’t happened just now,” Cullen coughed.  “I wanted to claim a little more of her time for myself, so if you don’t mind…”

“You are a sensible man,” Sigrid stood up abruptly. “Avexis, you need to leave.  I’ve work to do, and anyone can see that he wants to be alone with you, not gossiping with me about your friends.  Run along, get naked, we can talk tomorrow.”  She shoved her out the door.  “Nice to meet you, Commander.  We’ll talk again, maybe, if I don’t die in the Deep Roads.”  The door shut, and the bolt slid home.

Avexis and Cullen blinked at the closed door for a few minutes. “She seems… nice,” Cullen offered wryly.  “If a little – socially challenged?”

“She’s possessed,” Avexis said shortly, looking at her feet. “The Avvar mages teach that way, and then banish the spirits when they are no longer needed.  Sigrid exiled herself rather than give hers up.  She… she’s been alone a long time, even when she was surrounded by people.  She didn’t want to give up her only friend.”

“I would never have guessed,” Cullen managed the polite lie. They were silent for a few seconds, before Avexis turned to walk away.  “Avexis, wait.”  He reached out a hand, and caught her wrist.  “Come with me.”

“Where?” Avexis peered up at him.  “To your office?  To talk?  Or for… other things?”  She seemed hesitant, and he rushed to reassure her.

“I want to spend time with you, before you leave. I don’t care where.”  His face lit up.  “Come for a walk with me?  Outside the walls?”

Her lips twisted, but she nodded. They stepped together to cross the Great Hall together, trying to ignore the whispering nobles.  One in particular made him wince, “I told you it wasn’t a passing fancy.”

“They are fools for it, as am I.”

“Shush, you. This may mean wedding clothes.”

Avexis lost it, spinning back around to confront them. “Surely you have better things to do than sit and gossip?”

“Such passion! The Commander is a lucky man,” tittered the woman.  Cullen glared at all the nobles equally, and then pulled her away, into the courtyard, and out the front portcullis, her hand in his, both shaking, if for different reasons.

They were all the way across the bridge, and down the scouting path that led to the soldier’s camp before he spoke. Cullen swallowed, and looked up at the winter sky.  The sun wasn’t past zenith yet.  “Remember the last time we walked out here?”  He smiled, but she didn’t answer.  “The first time I was sure that you cared about me at all, beyond a friend.”

“We fought about your lyrium,” Avexis corrected.

“And then you kissed me.” His smile was smug, he knew, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“That doesn’t count. You were being… aggravating.  It wasn’t like the battlements.  That was real – you kissed me back.”

“And today, it’s you that’s the aggravation.” Cullen turned her, and lowered his forehead to hers.  “I would kiss you a million times, Ladybird, if it would help you realize how much I care.”

“But it won’t, will it?” Avexis peered up at him, and he realized she was crying.  “We can’t get past this.”

“That’s for us to decide,” Cullen corrected. “For my part, I want to put it all behind us.  Who we were five or ten years ago doesn’t matter a whit, as long as you love me.  As long as I love you.”  His voice broke again.  “And you do love me.  I know you do.  The distance, this silence, wouldn’t hurt so much if you didn’t, love.”

“I love you, but… if this is going to work, I have to change. I don’t understand how.”  She startled him by throwing herself at him, but he wrapped his arms around her back, holding her close while he could.

“I don’t mind what the nobles say.” Her hair smelled as good as ever.  “Let them whisper and talk about us.  Let’s prove all the rumors true.”

Avexis jerked, but he tightened his arms. “You want… Cullen- are you – are you taking notes from Rylen?”

“Not when you’re about to leave.” He felt her start to relax, nestling into him as she hadn’t done since before she left for the Basin. “But…someday, when you get things sorted out?”

She tensed again. “If.”

“When,” he corrected. “I can, I will… hope for when.”

She pulled back to look up at him. “You – you aren’t making fun of me?”  Her eyes were heavy – dark circles emphasizing the purple of her eyes.  She hadn’t been sleeping, wherever she was spending her nights. 

He brushed her hair back from her face. “I don’t have a sense of humor.  Ask Varric.”

“Varric’s gone.” She choked.  “And I’m going to have to leave in three days.  Josie says we can’t put it off any longer.  I could be gone a month - or more.  But I didn’t want to leave before we had a chance to-”

“Then we have three days.” Cullen started to bend to kiss her, and then stopped, so that she could meet him halfway.  “Should we make them count?”

“Oui.” Her tears ran into his mouth, so that her lips tasted of salt and ice. He cupped the back of her head, and she tugged him down, drinking him in.

Despite him trying to keep it slow, her demands increased, until he was lifting her against him, cursing the armor that kept him from feeling her. His hand slid down, cupping her and she groaned against him.  “Cullen… it’s too cold to go further.  We’ll freeze.”

“I know a place,” he whispered. “If you want to be… daring.”

Her breath caught. “Where?”

“Rylen left for Val Royeaux, and I’ve yet to name his replacement.”

“He… followed her?!” Avexis pulled back eyes wide with shock.  “Vraiment?”

“Oui,” Cullen laughed. “Left yesterday.”  His eyebrow went up.  “His tent is empty, and has a double bed.  I haven’t reassigned anyone to it yet.  He’s hard to replace.”

Avexis bit her lip. “Would he mind?”

“He’s not coming back unless Cassandra makes him,” he promised lowly. “He formally resigned from the Inquisition.  He has another battle to fight now, with a far scarier opponent.”  He barked a laugh, “Judging by his books of poetry, he’s prepared to read beneath Cassandra’s window for a year and a day.”

“The Cathedral will never be the same,” Avexis breathed, and then slipped her hand in his.  “Take me there, Cullen.  Please?”

Rylen’s former tent was set aside from the rest by a pleasant distance, and situated behind a rock to block the wind. Cullen allowed Avexis to enter first, darting in after her as quickly as possible.  But many of the soldiers and refugees had more permanent lodgings now, and no one was looking.

Avexis stoked the fire in the pot-bellied stove in the center, magical sparks rising up through the chimney. She bent over and began to remove her boots, jerking at the frozen laces impatiently.  Cullen knelt, and plucked at them like harp strings, releasing one foot and then the other, as she parted the clasps on her vest, before rising and kissing her again, relishing the way her body rose in response to his, and in the way gooseflesh formed – not in the cold air, but in the wake of his hands as they slid around her waist. 

Her fingers worked the straps of his armor, letting first the gauntlets, and then his cloak, and his greaves drop to the thick rug Rylen had claimed to cover the canvas floor, her mouth now on a level with a very interested portion of his anatomy. He pulled her back up from her distracting position, and kissed along her jaw, suckling a mark into her throat, and hoping it would last long enough for her to remember him by. 

He forced her to slow down, trying to distract her from what felt like desperation, like a goodbye. He wasn’t going anywhere, and she – she would be back.  This time, she wasn’t running, she was only leaving for a while.  He let her direct him backwards, towards the bed, and settle over him with narrowed, crafty eyes, and a wistful smile that wanted to be sultry.

It had been a while.   The satisfaction from her latest homecoming had been fleeting, his muscles and joints stiffer than he’d like to admit while he’d endeavored to welcome her back.  Maybe he was just getting old.

But he didn’t feel his years, not with her before him like this.

He ran his hands along her ribs and lifted her tunic over her head, rising to catch her lips again with his – slowly, still slowly, as she parted the laces on his pants and inched them down until her own legs kept them from traveling further. Her curses when she realized that she was impeding the progress of nakedness made him smile.  He lifted her up to take care of the offending garment himself, before she made half the remaining camp aware of their presence.

She settled back over him, breastband shoved down to her waist, and he cupped one breast and loosened the fabric with his other hand, drawing it away from her gently and dropping it on the floor, tracing a line down her sternum with his thumb. He raised her up to leave a trail of sucking kisses down her stomach, to let her straddle his head, so he could part her folds, and taste her, as deeply as he could manage.

In this moment, they had time. They were taking it, making the most of what they had.

She rocked against his mouth, cupping his hair, whimpering and muffling the sounds. His hands roamed – stroking her back, reaching above to cup her breasts, and lower, to encourage her to press harder against the flat of his tongue.

She bowed over his worship, singing into the early afternoon. The soldiers would know there was someone in here, but he was past caring about who might walk in; his Ladybird, bare and shuddering her bliss against his lips had all his attention.  She reached behind her, and he hissed as her touch burned like a brand against his cock. 

He didn’t think he’d ever been so- he jerked in her grasp. “Andraste’s Fire.  Ladybird, please…”

She shifted off his mouth, shuffling down his body to lay against him, his erection now trapped between them, painful and throbbing.

“’Vexis,” He half groaned, head spinning, and pressed against her. “I- I want-”

“Moi, aussi,” she whispered, and slipped him home.

He bucked against her, stifling her sounds with his mouth, allowing her to clean herself off his lips, moaning and trying to take him deeper yet, straightening up until her back arched elegantly. He lost himself, pushing her upright, and slamming her down.  Undulating, she writhed, eyes shocked, mouth gaping, and he drove himself up again. 

“Createur,” she whined, “Repete!”

Her hips pistoned against his, the sounds of their skin slapping together driving each other along the path to bliss. Her mouth caught his once more, and the drag of her tongue against his was the final straw.

He spent himself inside her, back arched off the woolen coverlet they’d never drawn down, his skin tingling with the coarse yarn, bucking against her, and then rocking, until he came to a complete halt, completely sated.

For now.

She draped herself over him, murmuring more sweet things in her native tongue, letting him swallow them down and give up his own for her to nibble at, along with his lips. He tipped her sideways, capturing her mouth with his, relishing in the sound of her surprise at his enthusiasm.

Eventually, he shifted back down, to lick her again, in lieu of anything to clean up with, relishing the taste of them together, melded into a flavor unlike any other. He hadn’t had enough yet – and judging by her renewed music, neither had she.  His intentions went by the wayside when she responded – thrusting her pelvis towards his mouth again, and panting, “Cullen.  Cullen, please…”

“Yes, Ladybird,” he whispered into her, two fingers following the words, stretching and scissoring her, and then curling along with her toes as she broke under his hands. His mouth went back to work – but gently this time, dutifully aware of his original task as she shivered under his ministrations.

He rose, and curled her against him, pillowing her head to his chest as his cock twitched with renewed interest, and she shuddered. He could wait for her to recover.  They had so little time like this, together with the rest of the world far away.

If only it could last forever.

 

<DT>

 

She played with his chest hair, teasing, but completely relaxed. His fingers ran down and circled a nipple, making it peak while laughing low at her half-hearted shudder.  “Avexis, do you ever think of what happens after the Inquisition?”  Cullen asked, quiet, sincere.  Earnest.

“I’m afraid to.” Her answer came out before she could censor it.  Would she have said anything different, had she had time?  Had she ever been so – comfortable, with anyone before?  Her fingers traced lower, and played with his navel, round and round like a whirlpool, and fighting her desire to nip at it.  Even Cullen wouldn’t be ready to go again so soon.  But maybe-

Cullen rolled to face her in Rylen’s bed, interrupting her thoughts. She could smell their lovemaking hovering in the air with the smoke from the stove.  Better than incense, urging her towards starting all over again.  “I’ve been thinking about it quite a bit.  What I want after this.  And… whether you will want the same things.”

“What’s not to want?” Avexis hummed and smiled, ignoring the way her stomach sank.  They might want the same things, but how impossible could that be?  She kissed his shoulder, hoping he would take that as a reply, and tried to move lower, but his hands stopped her.

She wasn’t that lucky. Cullen pressed on, lifting her chin to face him. “We’ve talked about it before.  How we don’t want to move on.  Not from each other.”

Avexis curled tighter against him, as if she could keep him near by sheer will alone. “I just-”

“You don’t see how, of course.” Cullen sounded so confident.  “I know.  You’ve had no time to think about such things.  I have, recently, as my duties taper off.”  He took a deep breath.  “I want you to promise me something.”

“Ask, then,” she whispered, knowing she couldn’t deny him anything. Her heart raced.  Surely, he wouldn’t… he said he wasn’t taking notes from Rylen.

“I want you to spend your time in the Deep Roads thinking. Thinking about after.  Dreaming about - us.  I don’t want you to criticize yourself, pare the dreams back to what you think you should have.  Or what you’re allowed.  Or what’s expected of you.”  Cullen propped himself up over her, sweet and sincere. Avexis cupped his face, blocking out the rest of the world until she could see only him.  “Dream wild, Ladybird.  If you could have anything in the world, what would it be?  You’ve changed the world.  There are no limits now.  So… what do you want?”

She froze, like an August Ram confronted by a wolf. “Cullen, I’ve never-” she frowned.  He wasn’t going to ask.

She didn’t know whether she was relieved or disappointed, but tears prickled her eyelids all the same.

“I know.” Cullen lowered himself to kiss her.  “But… perhaps this is the time to start.”

Avexis allowed the contact, and the enjoyment, but when he pushed himself back up to lean over with one of his half-smiles, she sighed. “I should get back.”  She tried to roll over, but his arm stopped her.

“We could stay here,” Cullen slid behind her, and she rolled back to face him, scared at the emotion she saw on his face – tender and sweet. “We’ve earned a day off, haven’t we?  Just the two of us.  To talk.  We can afford a little time now that Corypheus is dead and Hakkon is rebirthed?”  His mouth curled up, irresistible.  “Isn’t that the phrase the Avvar use?”

“I shouldn’t,” she flipped to face upwards, staring at the coarse ceiling of the tent. “It wouldn’t be fair.  Everyone needs to plan, and so do you.  Especially with Rylen gone and no replacement in hand.”

Cullen sighed, “I suppose you’re right.”

Avexis managed a smile, and tempered her words. “Of course, I am.” She kissed him.  “But we can plan together, can’t we?”  She kissed him again, slower, and moved back down again, not letting him stop her.  “And we don’t have to go back right this minute.”

He allowed himself to be distracted, and she let herself lose her worries in him, one more time.

And told herself it wouldn’t be the last time, however… impossible it all felt otherwise.

 


	14. Confessions, Odd Friends, and the Various Uses of Witherstalk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Due to the multitude of holidays occurring this week and next, we will not be posting again until after December 25th.

Three days. Three days was all they had.  They tried to fill them in productive ways – ways they could still be together for as much as possible, but there was only so much planning that could be done, with where she was headed.  

Cullen hashed out the supply and communication lines with Leliana for the small group headed underground. They wouldn’t be fast – or anywhere near as reliable as the ravens – but there would be a way for Avexis to communicate via scouts headed to the surface from wherever she chose to establish their camps.  The Legion of the Dead would help until the main camp – and there an Inquisition scout would wait, and carry the correspondence to the surface, and the Driftwood Camp on the Storm Coast, where ravens would carry it home. 

He hoped it would be enough. He knew so little about the dwarven Legion, but Josie’s communication with Orzamaar about Lieutenant Renn and Shaper Valta glowed.  In this, he would have to trust the ties she’d formed with the Thaig. 

It was a long three days, in between the Inquisition’s demand on his time and Avexis’ increased demands upon his body. Three days had to last for the unknown amount of time that lay between them and what came after – and he wasn’t about to waste the time sleeping. 

His whole body ached with fatigue by the time she rode out of the gates, looking back at him as if she didn’t want to go. 

The desire to follow her, pull Avexis down from her mount and hold her safe, stop her from making the descent at all, was strong enough to make him take two aborted steps forward. 

But she held up her hand, and smiled, and he stopped, eyes watering. She wasn’t alone.  She had her friends.  Bull, Thom, Cole… and Sigrid.  She even had a healer in the Avvar mage.  That was… better than she had before now.  Even if this was the most dangerous – and perhaps pointless – mission he’d ever had to send her on. 

She’d promised to think. And to write, as often as she could manage. 

Her party disappeared at the sharp turn across the bridge, and rubbing his stiff neck, he turned to head back to his office. He would wait.  He didn’t have any other option.

 

<DT>

 

It was a long trip to the Storm Coast. A dozen times, Avexis picked up pen and parchment to write to Cullen, only to stare at the paper, the words refusing to come. 

Cole found her, the pen dripping blotches on the sheet, “He wonders, wobbly, if he should wait. Warped and weary, tired and torn.  Today he waits – tomorrow brings its own troubles.  Come back.  Come back.” 

Avexis sighed, for once impatient with the cryptic words. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Cole?” 

“Don’t you know?” He frowned, “You do know.  Why do you hurt him?  He’s been hurt enough.  He’s hurting now.  You both are.  Stop the hurting.” 

“Easier said than done,” Avexis stared at the paper again. 

“Not really,” Cole began, uncharacteristically clear. 

Bull huffed from beside her. “You know, Boss, it’s pretty selfish to expect Cullen to always be there for you if you’re not going to be there for him.” 

“Someone has to stop the earthquakes.” She knew her voice was tired. Everything about her was tired, as tired as Cole said Cullen was.  Her marked hand cramped like the magic itself was nesting and growing under her skin.  If anyone was ‘torn’, it was her. 

“Stop the pity party, Boss. That’s not what I’m talking about, and you know it.”  Bull challenged, and Avexis shrank from his knowing look.  “Up til now, Cass has had your back – maybe even to the point of enabling.  And we get it – there was a hole in the sky and you needed to stay alive long enough to fix it.  And she loves you, and didn’t want you to get hurt, even if that’s what it took to heal.  We all kinda felt that way -  your life sucked back when you were in the tower.  You made a choice – the easy choice at the time - not to endure.  It worked, and then you got lucky.  You got a second chance to make that choice, and experience told you your first one was wrong.  I get that.  I mean, I made mine, too, right?  I’m not being reeducated right now, after all.”  His hand stroked his Dawnstone axe lovingly with a whetstone, smoothing out the chips from the brittle metal.  “I had a little help.  Seems to me, you don’t realize that you’ve got help this time.  But that help’s gonna hurt.  Just like mine did.  It hurts to look in the mirror and say, ‘Yeah, a decade ago I made a different choice, and I was wrong,’ but it doesn’t help to deny that it’s the same person in the mirror.  That’s what Cullen’s doing now.  Looking in the mirror, and recognizing himself.  You’ve yet to do that.” 

Thom nodded behind him. “Bull makes a lot of sense, Inquisitor.  Telling the truth is a lot more painful than lies, to my way of thinking.  The truth makes you lose things you want to keep close.” 

Sigrid snorted. “Truth does the opposite, too, Ser Rainier.  Telling the truth in the first place can keep precious things closer.” 

Thom opened his mouth to contradict, but Avexis interrupted, hunching over on herself, head in hand. “I don’t want to lose him.” 

“You’re more likely to lose him by not carrying your weight,” Bull grunted his approval when his blade sliced his thumb, sucking on the bead of blood. “Distance isn’t going to help anything here.  You can’t run from what’s inside your own head.” 

Avexis groaned. “Aide-moi, Sigrid?” 

“No, No, No.” The fire the other woman was poking blew upward in a thousand unexpected sparks.  “They’re all right, and you’re not.  Have you ever watched a healer work? Sometimes, they have to cut the bad parts out… They sew things up. It always hurts worse than before, and it’s uglier than homemade sin. If you want bones to set right or burns to heal, it’s gotta get worse before it can get better. You want things to get better, but you want it to be painless. It only works that way in the Seeker’s crappy books. Quit being an arse and own up.  Get out of your head before we’re stuck underground.  Else I’ll write to your Cullen and suggest he find some other girl to moon over, because the one he has doesn’t realize how good she has it.” 

“You wouldn’t,” Avexis dared her. 

“Try me,” the woman snorted. “He deserves better.”  She eyed the bearded man, who had closed his mouth and was now whittling stubbornly away at a shapeless piece of wood.  “Just like Thom, here.”  The knife slipped.  “That Ambassador’s not good enough for him, if she’ll let rank keep them apart.”  She stepped back from the fire, scowling at the pot, only kicked the log opposite her, back towards the flames, settling on it as regal as any Empress in Orlais.  “Don’t see how it’s any different, you and your Commander.” 

“I told you, I understand the way the court works,” Thom rumbled, flushing under his beard. “It was a passing fancy, and neither of us harbors feelings of resentment.  Any feelings we once harbored are long since over.”  He stared at the tiny carving in his hand – Avexis thought it might have been a bird, when he finished it. 

“The flowers on her desk say otherwise. Orlesian nonsense.”  She poked the fire again, sending it into impatient puffs of smoke.  “You two didn’t even get the fucking out of your system.”

“Thom, did Josie break your heart?” Avexis asked, saddened immeasurably. “I didn’t realize you were-” 

“Of course not,” Thom blustered. “It wasn’t like that-” 

“Cullen thinks his is,” Cole mourned. “Come back.”

Avexis rolled her head backwards, so she could see the drizzling sky. This situation was about as dismal a beginning as she could imagine for any mission, especially such a dire one.  “Fine.”  She grabbed the parchment and scrawled a couple sentences, and then a few more.

 

> _Mon Cher Cullen,_
> 
> _Je suis desole. Je suis un cul.  Those are likely to become my new greetings to you, if I’m not careful._
> 
> _I should have told you before I left that I heard your conversation with Leliana. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. She knew I was there, but you didn’t.  I was wrong not to show myself.  But I was going to talk to her about Vivienne, and… discovered I didn’t need to.  That you, and she, guard my back where it is most exposed. It’s not that I don’t think I’m still facing a return to the Circle, but – maybe it wouldn’t hurt to dream a bit, oui?_
> 
> _Dreams are dangerous for mages, mon amour. But I’m walking into greater danger right now.  We’ll talk when I get back to the surface, if you feel it can wait._
> 
> _I don’t know what I’ll do if you don’t. Ugh, that’s so manipulative.  UGH.  I’m shit at this. I need Cassandra to make my disgusted noises for me._
> 
> _I’m sorry I keep running from you. I want to stop. I don’t want to lose you.  I’m so afraid you’ll stop waiting for me to – ugh, I don’t know the phrase.  ‘Me rassemble?’  Is that reassemble in Common?  That doesn’t sound right... I need a word that is more like fixing myself.  If only Varric hadn’t gone home.  I need him to help me keep my vocabulary right._
> 
> _Please, wait just a little longer. I will come back.  Hopefully, with my head clear.  I will listen, this time, I promise._
> 
> _Bull says I’m not there for you. Putain, can it be that I am un coccinelle?  Merde.  But the rhyme goes, ‘fly away home’, n’est-ce pas?  I don’t have a home where you aren’t.  And you won’t understand half this letter, because I’m writing too fast to be clear.  I want to be there for you._
> 
> _I don’t want to live without you. Ever.  That’s why I’m so… perturbe.  Perturbed?  Non, that’s not right either.  Disturbed is closer, but still not right. I’m scared.  So scared.  There’s a phrase, and I can’t remember it. Perhaps I need a Common thesaurus for Satinalia.  But I’m going spend Satinalia in the Deep Roads.  Away from you._
> 
> _This is the worst letter I’ve ever written. You must hate me.  Don’t hate me?_
> 
> _I will take this time to think about what happens next, just as you asked. I already know one thing – just like you, I want you to be there.  Everything else is details._
> 
> _Je t’aime. Je promets, I will think, even when it’s hard, and everything I know is telling me I’m insane._
> 
> _Your Ladybird._

She finished writing, and looked up, to find Cole smiling. “He doesn’t hate you.  He couldn’t.” 

She looked back down at the letter. “That’s something, then,” and rose to attach it to a raven.  She stood for a long time to watch it fly west, back to Skyhold, wishing she was the bird. 

_You would make a very irritating bird. Do you have any idea how loud your thoughts are? Have you been practicing, little one?_

The dragon’s voice in her head made her smile. “Bonjour, mon ami.  Ca va?” 

_I hope you’re keeping your promise to come visit? It’s been… lonely, with no one but nugs and those foolish Blades of Hessarian to keep me company.  The conversation has been most lacking.  It’s a good day if I don’t get a sword shaken at me. You’d think they’d be grateful I was killing so many bears._

“Of course,” Avexis began, automatically, and then eyeballing her companions, who, to a person, were looking at her as if she’d finally lost her mind. “It’s the dragon,” she tried to explain. 

“Another one?” Sigrid paled under her tan. 

“A friendly one,” Cole whispered. “It’s been alone for such a long time.  But she won’t listen to me when I speak.”  His eyes dropped, so that his hat hid his face entirely.  “I think she’s nice.”  But his voice sounded dubious.  “She doesn’t hurt people unless they hurt her first.” 

Avexis sighed, and rubbed her eyes. “I promised to visit – and it’s been months.  It’s just a short trip to the new Port, and a quick boat ride, if I don’t just fly.  The most dangerous thing between there and here is me.” 

Cole’s hat shook violently with his movements. “Cullen made me promise that I wouldn’t let you out of my sight.  You can’t go alone.  Not this time.  I promised.  I’ll wait on the beach.  She’s so… big.” 

“You’re friends with a dragon.” Sigrid shuddered.  “I can’t decide whether I’m fascinated or…” 

“Or,” Rainier huffed. “Definitely or.  You should see her with the things, milady.  She just stands there, with them only a hands-breath away, her eyes get all… distant, and then she pops back into herself like she’s never been gone, just to tell us that they don’t like tea, or summat like that.” 

“And then she turns into one!” Bull slammed the handle of his axe into the ground.  “It’s amazing, Siggy.” 

“Siggy?” The Avvar woman curled her lip – as if she was trying not to smile.  “Who is this ‘Siggy’?” 

“We all had nicknames under the Qun,” Bull winked at her and Thom coughed, pointedly. 

“Well, you’re not of the Qun any longer,” Rainer rose. “So maybe you should keep your little petnames to yourself.”  He crossed his arms in front of his chest.  “At least until you have the lady’s permission.”

“Ser Rainier, I can defend myself.” Sigrid didn’t even raise her voice.  “I rather like it.  A nickname sounds like… friendship.”  Her head dipped forward so that her heavy braid hid the blush growing on her cheek.  “I think I’ll go with you to see the dragon, Avexis, if you don’t mind.” 

“You are welcome to come,” Avexis turned to face Dragon Island.  “I’m leaving immediately.”

 

<DT>

 

_So you mean to travel underground? Where the Forgotten Ones lie trapped?_   The surf’s muffled roar obscured any sounds that might have come up from the beach, where Cole and Bull were beachcombing.  She’d left them there, Cole staring at a crab, and Bull trying to show him how to put it to sleep by turning it upside down. 

There had already been a lot of pinching. Bull’s depth perception wasn’t so great, and Cole kept telling him the crabs weren’t sleepy.  “Forgotten Ones?” 

_The Blighted. I believe you call them archdemons._

“I certainly hope not,” Avexis shuddered. “If it’s all the same, I’d rather go my whole life without hearing another archdemon.” 

_Rarely are we given the choice_ , the Storm Coast’s dragon drawled. 

Avexis settled herself more comfortably on her rock. “I did some research on you.  Your breed-” 

_Breed. Makes me sound like the Formari have had their hands on me, like those mutts the Hessarians treasure so much.  Clever enough, I suppose, if you like fur and moisture.  Loud, hairy things that drool. They should be glad they aren’t tasty and that I despise picking fuzz out of my teeth._

“Yes, well, you’re called a Vinsomer, did you know?” 

“It means ‘Wine Summer’ in my language,” Sigrid spoke from a good distance away – not quite having to shout to be heard. 

_Tell your little friend my hearing is better than hers._

“No need to be loud, Sigrid,” Avexis complied. “Her ears are quite sensitive.  I wouldn’t be talking aloud at all, if it weren’t for your company.” 

“I… see,” the mage stepped a little closer. “She… she’s so beautiful.  Do you look like her when you…” she gestured, “You know, change?” 

“No,” Avexis coughed. “I’m told I’m golden, with violet eyes.”  Flushing, she turned back to the dragon.  “My point is, ‘Vinsomer’ is something I could call you, besides ‘the Storm Coast dragon’.”  She fished in her bag, and pulled out notes.  “Also… there’s a draconologist with the Inquisition that wanted me to ask a few questions, and beg your permission to come for a time.  We could use some advice on how to hatch dragon eggs…” 

_What on earth could he learn from me just by watching me sleep and eat?_ The dragon’s tail thrashed. _I do not tolerate fools gladly, my friend._ Her thoughts paused. _I suppose, if you must call me something, ‘Vinsomer’ would do. It’s short enough._ She snorted, loud enough to make Avexis wince. _I… don’t remember a different name._

“Hakkon was named,” Avexis murmured. “And the Old Gods – Urthemiel, Razikael…” 

_Don’t remind me. Arrogant idiots, the lot of them._ The dragon sighed.  _Something is bothering you, little one. What is it?_

Avexis glanced back at Sigrid. “Nothing’s wrong.” 

Sigrid sniffed, “Her lover wants her to tie the knots, and she is being a fool.” 

_Tie a knot? Do you mean he wants to mate with you?  What’s the fuss?  One drake is much like another._

Avexis choked, “Not for… people.” 

“Speak for yourself,” Sigrid huffed. “Men are men are men.” 

“Cullen isn’t like other men.” 

“Tie the knots, then,” She flashed back. 

“He hasn’t asked!” 

“He hasn’t?” Sigrid blinked, truly surprised. “Are you sure about that? I think he’s spent a lot of time asking. You just have your head so far up your own fears that you don’t understand.” 

“I think I would remember that, Sigrid.” 

_Ask? You people make things so difficult._ The dragon stretched.  _You find a drake – the largest, the strongest usually give the best offspring – and claim him. If there’s a challenger, you fight her, and you win. If he doesn’t suit, you find another one…_

Avexis’ felt her face flush, “Um… offspring aren’t-” 

“Babies? Why not?”  Sigrid snorted.  “He’d make them pretty enough, and you’re both healthy.  The pair of you would have strong sons and daughters-” 

“I’m a mage!” 

“You both have the right parts, don’t you?”  Sigrid chortled.  “Don’t tell me your Chantry never told you where babies come from… I’ll give you a hint.” 

“Of course I know… Don’t the Avvar think Rilla…” 

“Only if she blesses a couple during her feast,” Sigrid cut her off. “Otherwise, our babes are made the same way everyone else’s are; in the furs.”  Her cheeks were red.  “Rilla-made babies are just… special.”

_Your superstitions are most amusing._ The dragon’s thoughts drawled across Avexis’ mind.  _Still, my point stands. If you want dragonlings, you pick the biggest and strongest, mate with him, and build your nest. Is your mate not sufficient? If he’s not, pick another one._

“Cullen is more than ‘sufficient’.” 

“Sufficient, she says,” Sigrid plonked down on the ground in front of the dragon. “As if he weren’t the embodiment of male perfection.  Almost,” she added after a moment. 

“Almost?!”

"He's lacking in facial hair.  Real men have beards."  Sigrid plucked at a loose leather thong.

Avexis blinked, imagining Cullen with a full beard. He might as well be an Avvar himself.  The thought wasn’t unattractive, but it was… different.  “Cullen…” she frowned, “He looks fine clean-shaven.” 

“Personal preference, then,” snapped the mage. “A wise augur once said that, ‘He that hath a beard is more than a youth, and he that hath no beard is less than a man.  He that is more than a youth is not for me, and he that is less than a man, I am not for him.’” 

“Wise words, indeed.” 

_Is your mate fertile?_

“I have no idea,” she sputtered at the dragon. “I’ve been taking fresh witherstalk for over a cycle trying to prevent finding out.”

“Oh?” Sigrid looked interested.  “That works, then?  Witherstalk – that’s the spindly one with the shriveled berries, isn’t it?  It doesn’t grow in the Frostbacks – we only got the dried stuff.  We mostly just timed things by our moon calendar, or found alternatives to…”

“It works… well enough. If it’s fresh.  I’m not nursing an infant, in any case.”  Avexis hid her face in her hands.

_I have no idea what you are talking about._ Vinsomer snapped her jaws at them.  To her credit, Avexis didn’t flinch.  _What does you being a mage have to do with procreation? Is ‘witherstalk’ some sort of plant?  And why would you bother to mate at all if you don’t want offspring?_

_“_ Companionship.” Avexis mumbled into her hands.  “Someone to spend your life with.”

“What did she ask?”

“Why bother, if I don’t want children.” She said it through her teeth.

“Fun, mostly. It feels good. Still, it’s a valid question,” Sigrid shrugged. “You’re having enough sex now, aren’t you? As tired as that man looked when we left, he wasn’t spending his time sleeping.”

“Not really ‘enough’,” Avexis snapped out the truth. “We’re hardly ever in the same fucking place.  And when we are, I’m usually about to leave.  Enough would be significantly more than that.”

“’Fucking place’,” Sigrid snorted. “You don’t need to be so snippy, Missy. You’re still getting more action in the bedroll than I’ve had in my whole-”

“You’re not a virgin, are you?” 

"I took part in the feastdays like anyone,” the woman stammered.  “It’s just been… a while, since anyone accepted.”

“Oh.” Avexis frowned. “You’ve never had a real lover, then?”

“None of your business.” The woman turned away.

_What is a virgin?_

The single thought sent Avexis into a paroxysm of laughter, curling up with her back to her rock. “I suppose a dragon wouldn’t understand the concept.”

“What concept?”  Curiosity had made the other mage turn back to her.

“Virginity.” 

Sigrid snorted, “We have something in common then. Foolish thing to think about, labeling someone because they’ve never had a penis in them or put theirs in anyone else.” 

Avexis tipped her head backwards. “It doesn’t matter, Vinsomer.  None of us are.  How many clutches have you had?” 

_Enough to not want any more. Why do you think I’m living on an island?  Drakes don’t fly well, and I’m still nursing bites from the last time I had to kick the little ones out of my territory.  Last litter is haunting the mainland – their wings won’t take them much farther, until they’re about fifty years old.  You could do me a favor and kill some of them.  My last drake was a little too fertile._ She snorted. _Perhaps you should research whether witherstalk works on dragons._

Avexis tried for a weak smile. “Are you willing to be a test subject?” 

_I admit I’m rather fascinated by this idea of mating as companionship. I’ve… been alone a long time._

“So have we all,” Sigrid humphed.

_Tell your friend to talk to me after she lives her first age out. Until then, I don’t want to hear the whining._


	15. Descent, Developments, and New Endeavors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're back! After multiple holidays, a computer going down, sickness, bad weather, and general life craziness.
> 
> Sorry it's a short chapter, but we'll be back on a regular posting schedule now.

> _Mon Cher Cullen,_
> 
> _I’ve reached the Driftwood Camp, so I find it likely this will be the last letter for some time. As we agreed, there is no need to waste energies – or needed personnel – with unnecessary communication._
> 
> _I will miss you, though. Cole says you’re hurting.  Is it the lyrium withdrawals flaring up again? I wish I were there – go to Anders or Bethany if it gets bad. _Please take care of yourself, mon petit chou. You’re all I have to come home to.__
> 
> _Vinsomer (the dragon here) sends her regards and tells you not to be a fool about your health. So there, it’s not just me being overprotective._
> 
> _Cole wants me to tell you that I’ve been out of his sight, because I insist that I need to have privacy to use the privy, and to speak to the dragon because he makes her nervous. Also, to tell you that this dragon won’t hurt me, and you shouldn’t worry about it._
> 
> _I promise I will send word when we reach the Legion camp._
> 
> _My love,_
> 
> _Avexis_

 

Cullen sighed, and folded the letter, ignoring Leliana’s slight smile. “So, that’s that.  She’s in the Deep Roads.  We’ll hear from her when we hear from her, and that not often.”

“This time apart will be good for you,” Leliana murmured. “You two were so caught up in saving the world, that you don’t know who you are without a crisis.  I’ve been there, I know.”

“We’ve spent more time apart than together,” Cullen contradicted.

“Technically, but you were in constant contact. Daily, for the most part.”  Leliana hummed.  “This gives you enough time to think about what you want, where this is going.”

That answer, at least, was easy. “I want to spend the rest of my life with her.  No matter where that takes us.”

Leliana trilled, “Oh? And what does that life look like, Commander?  Here in Skyhold?  On the opposite sides of a Tower in a newly reconstructed Circle?  In Val Royeaux, surrounded by Chantry sycophants and Cassandra’s disgusted noises?”  Cullen shuddered.  “Or perhaps,” her eyes were wise, as she ran a finger over her lips.  “Perhaps in a little cottage, outside an abandoned village?”

Cullen’s eyes softened, remembering their trip.

“Ah, yes,” Leliana snickered. “I’ve lit upon it, I see.”  She tapped her lips.  “I know how to play this with Vivienne.  Oh, how she’ll despise me.  Just the thing to keep our working relationship interesting.”

Cullen looked at her with incredulity. “This is your idea of fun?”

“But of course, it is,” she said with a smile. “Our enemies say more about us than our friends. It’s easy to be friends, you just tell them what they want to hear, or give them what they want to have. Enemies require a more delicate touch. One wrong move and enemies become combatants. The challenge is keeping hostility just on the edge of open hostility.”

“That makes an odd sort of sense… But I don’t know if Avexis wants-” Cullen stopped. “I’ve never asked. We always intended to visit again, but- she’s always lived in cities. Orlesian cities.”  He frowned, “Does it count, when she hasn’t been free to go out in them?”

Leliana leaned against her worktable, “Perhaps you should take some time to ask?”

“Ask her what?” Cullen asked.

Leliana lifted a delicate eyebrow and tilted her head.

Cullen swallowed. “Oh…”

“Oh?” Leliana prompted.

Cullen grasped the edge of the table. “Thank you, Leliana.  I… I think I should take it from here.  Or rather, can we…” his words broke into a laugh.  “Can we call a War Meeting?  I could use Josie’s help, I think.  I know… I know you’re busy.”

“I will have my hands full, dancing rings around Vivienne’s machinations, and making sure that Cassandra doesn’t ruin her chances,” Leliana agreed. “Josie will help where she can.”  She waved down a runner.  “Fetch the Ambassador to the War Room, please,” She turned back to Cullen.  “I’ll excuse myself, if you don’t mind.  I need to call in a few favors.”

 

<DT>

 

“Josie,” Cullen paused in the Ambassador's doorway, heart beating a mile a minute. His idea seemed hazy and unattainable, now that he was faced with the harsh light outside the shadowy aerie where Leliana’s triangle of a love life seemed like something that could actually happen, much less his own, more simple shape.  “Do you have a minute?”

“I’m always busy,” but Josie smiled, and raised her pen. “How can I help you, Commander?”

“I need to know how to say something in Orlesian.”

Josie pursed her lips, “For diplomatic purposes?”

“Well… yes. Strictly speaking, I suppose.  It’s for two key members of the Inquisition, after all.  Diplomacy might help.”

“What do you need to say?” Josie fiddled with her pen, cautiously.  “If you need someone threatened you should leave it for me or Leliana.  Best if we avoid an incident at this late date…”

“It’s nothing like that – though it could cause some… turmoil, in certain quarters.” Josie blinked, patiently as Cullen glanced down the hallway in either direction, making sure that they were alone.  “I’m going to ask Avexis to marry me.” Josie’s eyes widened and she squealed.  “Really?  When?”

“Yes?” Cullen flushed and rubbed the back of his neck.  “And I don’t know when.  Soon.  I hope.”  He drooped, “Not soon.  Eventually.  When I’m – we’re – ready. After she gets back?” He ignored the wishful thinking that ‘when’ was inevitable, and not just ‘if’.  “I want to say it right… In Orlesian.”

“Perfect,” she glowed and reached behind to her bookshelf, pulling out an etiquette book. “Are you looking for the appropriate traditions?”

Cullen frowned. “My country has its own traditions.  I just need the words that will mean something to her.”

“Oh,” Josie pouted, and the way one hand flipped the pages in the book, contrasting with how her pen scratched on the parchment indicated her displeasure. “I hope you aren’t doing the Fereldan thing, with the sheaf of wheat and goats.  It could get complicated, with no mother or older sister to ask permission of…”  She frowned, and looked up, “A dowry is an issue.  How could I have overlooked… this will not do.  Avexis deserves better.  Her savings are hardly adequate to begin, much less sustain a household.  What an oversight – I should have been setting aside funds for the last year, at least.”

“The goats are no problem.” He stood straighter. “I’ll offer them to Cassandra.”

“What would the future Divine do with several goats? She’ll run you through!”

“Two goats are not several. And she’s not supposed to _keep_ them.  She’s supposed to give them to the bride, to help provide for her… growing family.  Goats are some of the most useful livestock – they give wool, meat, and milk.”  Cullen blushed and then sighed, “It’s tradition, and Cassandra’s the only possibility, after the Keeper’s journal confirmed… Unless you think Dorian…”

“Maker no, not Dorian, it will have to be Cassandra, if you insist.” Josie shuddered, and looked away. “We all hoped… but with a name like Avexis, how could it be different?  We should have realized.  But if we had-”

“I don’t care where she came from. It’s her I love, not whatever country she claims.”  He smiled slightly, “Given my own relations, it might be a point in her favor that she has none.”  He shuddered.  “If my family knew what I was planning, no doubt I’d be inundated with advice from my sisters, and ribald jokes from my brother.  Perish the thought.”

“That’s sweet, Commander.” Josie made no sign that she’d heard his last.  “I will endeavor to help you.”  She shifted forward in her chair.  “Sit down.  I’ll teach you the words, and how to say them properly, in Orlesian.”  She frowned attractively.  “How much time can you dedicate to this task?”

“I have half an hour right now…”

“Oh, that will never do. This will take months, even years, to manage properly.”  Josie shook her head.  “First, tell me what you want to say, and you will repeat it, and then you can write it down, phonetically.  We’ll worry about spelling after your accent is improved, and you reach some degree of fluency.”

“I’m not going to propose by letter,” Cullen sputtered.

“Good, that would be a disaster.” Josie relaxed, “If we start now, we might be able to arrange it for next year. I’m assuming you mean to do it in Val Royeaux?” Her pen posed, ready to begin again, but her eyes went dreamy.  “During a ride on the Mirroir, a minstrel strumming something soft and sweet.  You, at her feet, offering everything you have, along with a ring, as the elves do, specially chosen.  It’s a shame that Dorian has left already.  His taste in jewelry is impeccable.  Though perhaps that detail could be delayed until after his return,” she began twirling her pen through her fingers, absent-mindedly, her work forgotten for a moment.  “So romantic, a blending of cultures and traditions to span Thedas...”

“A ring I can manage. But a minstrel? A boat?” Cullen recoiled.  “I get seasick.”

“The Mirroir is not tidal,” Josie snapped back to the present. “The demon is in the details, Commander.  A woman dreams of such things all her life.  This should be the culmination of every fantasy Avexis has ever touched upon.”  Her lips pursed, “I suppose it is too late to find someone to duel for her hand…”

A duel? What on Thedas was the Ambassador on about?  “I doubt Avexis has ever thought about – mages weren’t allowed to- why would she have a set idea of how these things work?”

“Just because she’s ignorant doesn’t mean she should settle.” Josie rolled her eyes, ever so politely.  “Regardless, she reads, doesn’t she? I’m certain that Cassandra has shared some of her favorite books with Avexis. Believe me, Commander, she knows the difference between a romantic proposal and one that is… lacking in thought.”  Her pen tapped her desk impatiently.  “I, for one, have never understood why celibate mages serve man better than married ones.  Quite the contrary, if you can believe some of the Seeker’s more ribald choices in literature, with her on the throne, there will be a sea change.” Josie shifted forward in her chair again, mind on the task at hand.  “Let’s begin.  How do you intend to frame the question?”

Cullen sat back, confident once more. After all, he didn’t have to take the Ambassador’s advice. “’Marry me.’”

Josie hid her mouth behind her hand, face schooled into politeness, “You must be joking.”

“’Marry me, please?’” That sounded better.  There was a desperation there, where he admitted there was a large chance she would turn him down entirely.

Josie stared at him in disbelief, “This is going to take longer than I thought. It’s a good thing the war is all but over.  Clear your schedule, Commander.  This is going to take years.”

“We don’t have years.”

“Then we’d better start immediately.”

 


	16. Under the Weather, Under the Ground

Cullen shifted over his desk, rolling his shoulders, and rubbing the back of his increasingly sore neck.  

Avexis had been gone for a week now, and he was still barely sleeping. It wasn’t from overwork, nor from worry, but from discomfort. 

As the weather grew colder, his joints protested. Half the Keep was laid up with something or other, and the rest were carrying around wards against the common cold and flu.  Most of his officers had already recovered – the minority sniffling and coughing their way through meetings, denying they were ill in the first place.  The mages were running a roaring business in barriers that claimed to keep out the ill humors that led to such illness. 

He had tried, for what it was worth, encouraged by Josie, who swore that they were effective. The only thing it had done for him was make him feel like he couldn’t breathe. 

He’d escaped the worst of it. He was used to running a temperature, for one.  He could function with a minor headache – it was nothing compared with the withdrawals, after all.  The added stress from the pain only agitated the mental strain from his work. 

The planned removal from the cities in Orlais was proving difficult. In too many locations, the local Guard had been using Inquisition forces to supplement their own units, and withdrawal of troops was being met with resistance. The Guard didn’t want to lose the troops, and those troops were refusing to return to Skyhold. They had grown attached to the duty stations, and often to the men and women of the town. Those ties led to romances, and who was he to tear apart couples in love? The gradual withdrawals that he and Rylen had meticulously planned were not happening. 

He was a just man – as long as they resigned formally, he didn’t care where the troops settled. In fact, he wished them well – he knew all too well what it was like to try to come ‘home’ when ‘home’ wasn’t where or how you’d left it.  War changed people.  But vital roles were being filled by the inexperienced – at this rate, he’d have to go himself to Val Foret and oversee difficulties there, and probably teach the soldiers how to do their own jobs. 

He scrubbed at his face, stacking the reports and pointedly ignoring Mia’s latest letter sitting on the corner of his desk. Perhaps she had a bit too much of their mother in her.  Her words had been filled with excitement about the prospect of him settling in Honnleath permanently, and assuring him that other than Rosalie wanting their mother’s jewelry, they were all willing to let him have what was left, in exchange for his promise that he’d visit ‘soon’, with the Inquisitor.  And a threat – not idle, he was certain – of writing the Inquisitor herself if he wasn’t forthcoming with more information on their relationship ‘soon’. 

“Soon,” he muttered to the map in front of him – Avexis’ latest correspondence, accompanied by a note that she thought the Inquisition should be mapping the Deep Roads route they were taking. Naturally she’d taken the burden on herself – a dubious duty for her part, but one he was eternally thankful for. 

Avexis’ maps were works of art, detailed and lovely. He caught himself stroking one of her notations about doors and gears, when his new second cleared her throat, drawing his attention to his gesture.  He snatched his hand away – feeling as guilty as if he’d been caught fondling Avexis instead.  “Are you sick as well, Captain Roberson?” 

“No, Commander.” The woman looked away.  “Are we finished here?  You…” she swallowed, but pressed on.  A good sign, that she would bring things to his attention.  “You’re pale, Serah.” 

“I’m always pale,” he shrugged off her concern. “Comes with the withdrawals, Captain.  Lyrium does nothing for the complexion.  You joined after Haven, or you’d be aware of the improvement.”  He’d stopped lying to his troops about what he was doing, when the success seemed to be certain.  The Templars needed to know it could be done.  He was a powerful object lesson – he hoped. 

“You’re paler than you were this morning, Ser… Not sure if I’d call that an improvement… if you don’t mind me saying so. Perhaps you should lie down-” 

“We’ve other things to worry about than my health. Dismissed,” he ordered her, and she bowed and left, still looking concerned. 

He sat down at his desk, a little quicker than he’d like, due to a wave of dizziness. He put his head between his legs, and waited for it to pass. 

The symptoms hadn’t been this bad for some time. If Cole was bringing it to Avexis’ attention – one of the few personal comments in her letters, often repeated, was that Cole said he was hurting - perhaps he should go get looked at.  If nothing else, Bethany would give him more tonics for his headache. 

But he didn’t want to go to the healers. He hadn’t been for months now.  He was supposed to be healthy, dammit! 

He snorted at his own recalcitrance. What was he, a child?  He stood, head still spinning, and began to make his way to the door.  It opened, before he could get to it, and he blinked, confused at the person framed within, half lost in thoughts about Avexis in the Deep Roads, and the other half with how rotten he truly felt. 

“I have those reports you wanted, Ser-” Scout Bruce looked up, and rushed in, just as his legs gave way. “Oopsy daisy, Commander.  You don’t look so good.” 

“Just on my way to the healers,” Cullen grunted, reluctant to lean on the other man, but his legs having a completely different opinion on the matter of their ability to support him. Traitors.  “Don’t you have somewhere…” 

“No, Ser,” the man asserted. “Inquisitor’d have my hide if I let you go down those steps in this condition.” 

“Well, I can’t climb the ladder,” he snapped. 

“That's a bit on the nose, Ser.  So... sit, instead.” The scout steered him towards the desk, firmly.  “I’ll go get a healer for you.  No reason you need to walk that far.” 

“I’m fine.” He gripped the desktop, before he demonstrated the lie. 

“You’re an arse, is what you are,” Bruce grinned. “But we’re used to it.  Come on, Commander, you don’t expect me to look forward to being zapped like a bug, do you?  Your lady Inquisitor – she don’t suffer fools gladly, even when she’s not a dragon.” 

Cullen snorted, smiled fondly, and half-fell into his chair. “No, she doesn’t, does she?”  He tried for a scowl - appearing weak and besotted in front of Bruce would start a half dozen new rumors that Avexis didn't need. 

“Stay right there,” the man backed away, hands out, as if he was worried Cullen would tip out without support. He might not have been too far off.  “I’ll be back in a jiff.” 

He would be here. He didn’t have much choice.  The room spun, like he’d indulged.  “I’m not drunk,” he announced firmly.  “It’s not even noon.  I never drink before lunch.”  He tried to distract himself from the tilting with work – but his eyes wouldn’t focus.  

Instead of the documents, Anders’ face swum in his vision. Blinking, he tried to recoil from the candle the man held in his hand, just to be met with vertigo bad enough to make him wretch.  “Commander?”  The voice echoed in his head.  “Cullen?” 

He tried to answer, but it came out as a gag. 

“How long have you felt like this?” 

He tried to shrug, a passive denial of ill health, but groaned with the effort of the movement. 

“He’s burning up,” Bruce’s face appeared and he tried to focus, scowling at the audacity of the scout. “Felt it, when I caught him, before.  Helped him here.  Thought he’d tip.  Couldn’t find anyone to keep an eye on him…” 

“Have somewhere to be.” The words were a croak. He couldn’t remember, but he’d been heading somewhere important.  “Avexis.  She’s… waiting?”  He knew when he said it that it wasn’t right.  His eyes landed on the map she sent him, unable to make sense of the squiggles.  “No.  Going somewhere else?” 

“Yes, bed.” Anders quipped, with a smirk. “Where is it?” 

“He sleeps up in the loft,” Bruce betrayed him and he managed a snarl. “Sorry, Ser.  But if ever a man needed a lie down, it’s you.” 

“That won’t do. There’s a hole in that roof.”  That was Bethany, voice gentle.  “Cullen, we’re going to move you to the Inquisitor’s quarters.”

“No!” 

“Yes,” the woman replied, her own more pleasant face replacing the less preferred Bruce and Anders. “You need to rest in a place you can reach, and you’ll be more comfortable there than in the infirmary.  We’re full up on influenza patients – all we can offer is a pallet on the ground.” 

“I should get back to them,” Anders shifted away. 

“Help me move him, first,” she instructed, her hand on his wrist warm. “Bruce, pull a sturdy blanket from his bed, so that we can carry him.  He certainly can’t walk in this state.  Maker’s Breath, his heart is racing!  Bruce – how long has he been ill?” 

“I dunno. Found him like this just now.  He had appointments all morning.  Maybe ask Captain Roberson?  She was the meeting just prior.  Saw her leave. I can say he’s looked like rubbish for a few days now. Wouldn’t listen to anyone, he wouldn’t.” 

“I certainly will take it up with her. I thought that woman had more sense,” Bethany snapped, and rose back to her feet.  “Come on, Commander.  Let’s get you to bed.” 

“Not sick.” He tried, desperately.  “Lyrium.” 

“Yes, you are sick, and no, it’s not lyrium, I’m thrilled to say.” Anders’ voice was altogether too cheerful.  “You, Cullen, have the influenza.” 

“I do not,” He shoved himself up with all his might, impressed his muscles obeyed him. “See?” The world tilted and the floor came up to meet him.  Something hit the side of the head with an audible crack, stone solid beneath his cheek.  “Ow.”

“Stubborn bastard of a Templar,” Anders’ voice echoed. “You’ll never listen.” 

Just before passing out Cullen heard someone say, in a ridiculous impression of his voice, “I’m not a Templar anymore.”

 

 

 

<DT>

 

Avexis took the packet of letters from the Legion scout, and ripped the one with the Commander’s seal open immediately, frowning. 

It wasn’t from Cullen. Yes, there was a brief letter in his handwriting, and a note, in scrawling script that looked the opposite of practiced.  She set aside Cullen’s without reading it, and scanned the note.

 

> _Inquisitor,_
> 
> _I'm sorry to tell you that the Commander has fallen ill. The healers are telling me I need to write and say something, since I’m the one who found him falling down in his office.  Caught him, I did._
> 
> _Heh, ‘Fallen ill’. “Falling down’.  Get it?  Sorry.  My mates tell me that’s inappropriate.  Sorry, not used to writing to anyone but my mum.  She laughs at my jokes.  Tells me to get on with it._
> 
> _Right. Anyway, Commander’s sick.  He’s not gonna be able to do whatever it is he does, is what I’m saying.  He’s holed up in your rooms (lucky bastard).  Healers say that hole in his roof will let the bad humors in.  Dunno about any of that hocus pocus stuff – but you’re a mage.  You’d know._
> 
> _So he’s bedridden until he gets better or doesn’t. Some people aren’t – that’s the flu for you.  Takes some sudden and hard.  Mother Gisele had services for three yesterday._
> 
> _Healer Hawke says he’s bad off. It sure doesn’t look good.  She says he works too hard, not enough rest.  Tell us something we don’t know, aye?  She says the gunk has settled in his lungs.  He’s the color of goose shit and fighting to breathe.  Still, if he can kick the lyrium, maybe he’s got a chance, right?  A man that strong, the flu’s nothing to it, right?_
> 
> _Sorry about the bad news. Mates tell me I’m unfeeling.  That you’re gonna be right worried sick, and the Commander’ll come down on me hard when he’s well and finds out what I wrote.  Don’t mean to be mean.  Just tell it like I see it._
> 
> _Hope all is well down there. Glad it’s you, and not me.  Caves give me the colly-wobbles.  The spiders, you see.  Getting many of them down there?  Then again, least it’s not dragons.  No offense._
> 
> _Scout Bruce Campbell_
> 
> _Acting Assistant to Acting Commander Roberson_

 

“What in Thedas,” she snarled at the letter, lips curling, flipping it over like she thought there would be more. 

“Bad news?” Thom asked idly from his place on his bedroll, where he was dumping small rocks out of his boot. 

“You might say that.” Avexis waved the letter under her nose.  “Somehow our least helpful scout is now the Assistant to the Acting Commander.  Skyhold has an influenza outbreak, and Cullen…” she stopped. 

“What’s wrong with the Commander?” 

“He’s ill. Thus an acting Commander.”  She twisted the letter.  “I shouldn’t be here.  If he’s- if everyone is sick-” 

Bull plucked the letter from her hand, read it and whistled. “Well, shit.  That does sound bad.  Bruce might exaggerate a little, but he’s got a gift for being in the right place at the right time to get the news.” He shrugged.  “Nothing you can do about Cullen though.  He’s got healers, he’s being made comfortable as possible.  Good on Bethany, to move him someplace better.” 

“I could go home.” Avexis stared into the lava pool.  “I could go back and…” 

“And make enemies of Orzamaar?” Thom shook his head.  “You can’t, milady.  Cullen’s strong.  He’ll pull through.” 

“’Pull through?’ Through what?”  She tried to puzzle out the idiom and failed.  “He’s not pulling anything.” 

“It means that he’ll get better,” Bull slapped her back. “Get some rest, Boss.  Another push in the morning or whatever the fuck time it is when we finally wake up.” 

She settled into her bed roll, pulling it around her and ignoring Thom and Sigrid’s low murmurs across the fire. They often stayed up talking through the first two watch shifts.  But Avexis couldn’t sleep.  Cursing, she threw her covers back, and strode to a far corner, with a candle in a dwarven mug she’d picked up somewhere random, and wrote a reply – addressing it to Acting Commander Roberson, not Bruce – and requested details about the illnesses from Josie and Leliana. 

Only then did she open Cullen’s letter.

 

> _Chere Avexis,_
> 
> __
> 
> _J'essaie d'apprendre quelque chose de nouveau. J'espère que ça te plaira.  Josie est très patiente avec moi-et je m'excuse pour tous les accents que je vais inévitablement laisser.  Cette lettre va probablement lire comme un 8 ans l'a écrit.  Désolé._
> 
> _Souffle du Createur, comment Orlesians parviennent à écrire quoi que ce soit avec autant de petites fioritures supplémentaires dont vous avez besoin dépasse l'esprit._

 

She choked, covering her mouth. He was learning Orlesian?  Since when?  The date on the letter was weeks ago… and obviously he was learning with all the dedication he put into the rest of his training.  

She savored each word, laughing at what he’d gotten wrong.

 

> “Dear Avexis, I'm trying to learn something new. I hope it will please you. Josie is very patient with me - and I apologize for all the accents that I will inevitably leave. This letter will probably read as an 8 year old wrote it. Sorry. Breath of the Creator, how Orlesians manage to write anything with so many little extra frills you need goes beyond the mind.”

 

No one should be allowed to be so charming. She wiped the tears away, heartened by how well he sounded.

> _All right, that’s enough for now. Josie is harping on me about conjugation and missing objects and who knows what all until my head aches.  Why does Orlais need so many verbs, anyway?  I have now shut her out of my office for the foreseeable future._
> 
> _Or at least until my lesson commences tomorrow. Most of her instruction sessions end this way, honestly.  She is patient beyond reason.  I am not.  Why is this so damned difficult? I’m an educated man.  I’ve always considered myself rather intelligent – even well read.  This makes me feel like a bumbling idiot._
> 
> _(Josie informed me that idiot is the same, at least. Maker’s Breath, that shouldn’t be such a relief.)_
> 
> _Besides, this way, I don’t have to have her correct my work, and I’d rather keep at least some of our correspondence private, wouldn’t you?_
> 
> _I’m already eagerly looking forward to the day when you fly home – for good, this time, Maker willing. I was fascinated by your account of the dragon; Vinsomer is a handsome name, isn’t it?  I hope you’ll give her my regards when you emerge from your descent.  I only wish I could be more help to you. Still the engineering team awaits your word.  They will have arrived at the Storm Coast by now, barring travel difficulties. At least something is going right._
> 
> _Skyhold is in the grip of winter illnesses. Between that and the troop withdrawals we’ve lost too many good people recently._

 

It broke off there – no doubt he’d intended to finish it later, after meetings or before bed… she smoothed it out, trying not to worry and failing.

Surely if he could withstand lyrium withdrawals, he could weather this, as well. But how many people had they lost to influenza?  It sounded even worse than Bruce’s missive – and that was bad enough.  Were people in Skyhold dropping like flies?  And what difficulties were they having with reducing their forces in Orlais?

She sighed, and refolded the letter, curling up in her chosen corner, and trying very hard not to hear Sigrid and Thom’s low laughs.

With every one came a pang of jealousy. But at least someone was with someone they cared about.  It was hard to even remember the color of the sky, after just a few days below ground.  She finally rose, and went back to her bedroll, squeezing her eyes tight against the emotions and fear.

There would be no sleep for her tonight.

 


	17. Fever, Life Lessons, and Well-Meaning Qunari

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long gap. Sudden death in an eldery family member meant I had to leave the state and spend the last week sorting through personal effects. I'm back now, and hopefully (knock on wood) that means resuming a normal posting schedule.
> 
> Thank you for your patience, those of you who are still reading.

“We’ve got to get his fever down!” A mage hissed at another mage. Too familiar… “Make ice!” 

“You want to freeze him to her bed? Cone of cold doesn’t make cubes, Bethy!” 

Cullen tossed in the too soft bed, groaning. “‘Though all around me is darkness… yet still shall the Maker be my guide…’” His voice was muffled, and he struggled to project the verse louder. 

“Cullen,” a female with long black hair knelt next to him. “Do you know me?” 

He flinched away, and then blinked, eyes cloudy and gritty with sand. “Enchanter Amell?”  Her face looked right, but her hair… hadn’t Solona been a redhead?  “Why did you dye your hair?” 

“Who?” Anders cackled. “You don’t mean Solona, do you?” 

He snarled, trying to focus his eyes, “Anders. If you and Karl have been cooking up another scheme and dragging Enchanter Amell into it – this time I’ll turn you in.  I swear.  Even Irving won’t protect you this time.  And see if I send you your cat…”  Anders choked but Cullen lost his train of thought as he squinted against the light.  “Why is the infirmary so bright?  I thought there were supposed to be shutters, after the last time you…” 

“He’s delirious.” The mage looked… worried, however, instead of laughing.  Cullen frowned.  Was it Anders, after all?  Anders would have sassed back.  Anders wasn’t afraid of Templars… especially not him.  “Wait – you were the one to smuggle Mr. Wiggums…” 

“Ask him when he has his mind back,” the woman snapped. “He thinks I’m my cousin.”  Glass rattled next to his ear, and he flinched away from the noise.  “Anders, fetch the surgeon.  Perhaps she will-“ 

“Bleeding him won’t do a fucking thing except make him weaker, Bethany.” 

“We won’t let her.” Her voice was confident.  “She’ll have something that will help.  Something we haven’t thought of.  Please, Anders, go!” 

“She’s a quack!” Anders – if it was indeed Anders – grabbed the Enchanter by her shoulders.  “You know who we need, Bethany.” 

“We can’t,” she looked away, wavering. “Fiona has been disbarred.  She’s not the Grand Enchanter any longer.”

“That doesn’t mean that she’s not the best healer in all Thedas,” Anders insisted. “What does her status in the Circle matter, if she can save his life?  You know how much I fucking care about the Circle.” 

“He’s dying.” Her voice was lower, insistent.

“I’ll go, but I’m bringing back Fiona.” 

“Bleeding?! I won’t be used,” Cullen protested, and jerked.  His limbs flopped, and for a moment he was shocked he hadn’t been bound.  “You’ll have to do better than that to use me for blood magic, mage!”  He struggled to sit up, and managed, drumbeats echoing in his head.  Force magic pinned him down before he could start a Silence.  He went limp, tears running down his face.  “Let me go!”  He hated that he was already resorting to begging… 

“It’s for your own good, Cullen. You’ll hurt yourself worse if…” 

“Let. Me. Go.” He jerked again, every muscle protesting. 

“Anders!  Just-” 

Footsteps thundered down the Inquisitor’s steps, in time to Cullen’s pulse.  

“Maleficar,” he hissed at the woman. “You’re not Amell.  Who are you to borrow her face?  What have you done with her?”

“I’m not a blood mage.” The mage wiped his face with a cold cloth.  He ignored how good it felt.  “I’m Bethany Hawke, Cullen.  I know you don’t remember, but you’re sick.  This isn’t Kinloch.  Or Kirkwall.” 

“I remember, all too well! Your kind…” 

“Get ice,” a new voice, tinged with a light Orlesian accent – and why was that so attractive? - commanded. An elf with dark hair and green eyes appeared by his head.  “You’ve restrained him?  Was that necessary?” 

“He thinks I’m a blood mage, he was going to hurt himself trying to stand up,” Bethany whispered. “He remembers Anders, but nothing’s working... Fiona.  He was supposed to bring the surgeon.” 

“The surgeon was busy, bleeding someone. They think blood magic is bad, and they let surgeons do things that are just as bad. Maker… “ the woman seemed professional, but she’d aligned herself with the maleficar… he couldn’t trust her. “Commander, do you recognize me?” A cool hand on his forehead, and another on his hand. “I’d like to help you, if you’ll allow. I know you’re in pain, can you tell me where?” 

The voice was soothing, but he knew not to trust the pretty faces or dulcet tones. She mentioned bleeding - was he next? He wouldn’t give in… “You can’t have me, Mage. ‘Blessed are the peacekeepers, Champions of the Just…” 

Sighing, Fiona lowered herself to one knee and looked him in the eye. “Commander, I know that it’s hard, and that you’re afraid, but I’m here to care for you. The Inqui… Avexis wants you to regain your health, and I’m going to help you do that. Please stop struggling, or we’ll have to make you sleep again. Things will be much easier for us all if you’ll help us.” 

Avexis… Avexis… That name sounded familiar, kind, even beautiful, but he didn’t know why… Calming, he repeated the name. Avexis… Avexis… Avexis… “Avexis?” 

“Bethany, I need ice and snow. Put a blanket on the floor and lay him on it, then we’ll put the ice on top of him. Anders, we need spindleweed, elfroot, and willow bark. I don’t care what you have to do to get them, but bring them here. Damned surgeon is hoarding them like gold. Have Leliana steal it for you, if necessary.” Fiona looked around the room, “Tell me there is a teapot here?” 

“No…” Cullen protested. “The blood mages…”  There was something about the way she spoke that comforted him… a face flashed across his memory, of violet eyes fringed with dark lashes and blonde hair pulled back in elaborate braids, and full lips, with a scar on her forehead… he relaxed.  “Don’t let them-“ 

“I won’t,” the mage promised, eyes strangely tender. 

“Some things never change,” that was Anders again. But Anders had never, even in the worst moments, been a blood mage… 

“You rave about Templars and explosions and beg for Justice in your sleep. Why should he be any different?” 

“You weren’t there!” Anders ranted.  “Amell was made Tranquil after her and Neria tried to smuggle a blood mage out of the tower.  Cullen was friendly with Solona...  Why did he have to…” Anders caught his breath.  “You do look like her.  A little.  I… never saw it before.” 

A sharp crack echoed through the room. Had the elf slapped Anders?  “We have work to do. If you can’t focus, go find me someone who can!”                                               

Cullen’s limbs stopped straining. 

“I’m sorry, Grand Enchanter. I’ll be right back with the supplies.”  Anders, contrite?  It couldn’t be him. 

“Good. That’s not my title any longer, but… good.” The elf’s face drifted back into sight.  “Now, Bethany, help me lift him onto the blanket.  On the count of three.”

 

<DT>

 

Avexis had isolated herself from the others, tired of being irritable and snapping at everyone. Two weeks later they were still at the Legion main camp – darkspawn resistance was too great to risk another settlement deeper in.  They were all drained with the nearly constant fighting – and the earthquakes were getting worse, not better. 

Valta claimed that there was a rhythm to the quakes – one that meant they weren’t natural. Avexis heard only something like buzzing – but it was constant, only interrupted by the squeaking of hidden nugs. 

There were a lot of nugs in tunnels all around them – but they hadn’t seen a single one. It was bizarre - and not a little unnerving, at least for her. 

Every order from Skyhold was still signed by ‘Acting Commander Roberson’. Leliana’s letter had intended to be soothing – but firmly stated that Cullen was unable to function as the Commander of her army.  His illness had settled in his lungs, but Bethany and the misguided Fiona had the charge of his care, and he had a round the clock nurse in Anders. 

She cringed at the choice – but no one could deny that Anders, while Justice had left him – was still one of the best healers in Skyhold. 

There were others sick, too. Dagna, Harritt, Cabot, Lysette… 

The letter had told her to stay away, in the bluntest terms. She couldn’t get sick.  She could do nothing.  In short, she was useless everywhere except where she was.  The spymaster and Ambassador were telling everyone the same – from Dorian to Sera.  Skyhold was to be avoided at all costs until the illness ran its course.  Even Josie was down – though her case was milder than the Commander’s. 

There was nothing she could do. So instead, Avexis sat, lava flows tinting her face and hands with a fiery glow, making knots in a length of rope.  

“Need a hand, Boss?” Bull plopped down beside her with an audible groan of relief. “Pretty good at knots. Ask Dorian.” 

“Not this kind,” Avexis clenched her jaw. “And I want to do this for myself. By myself.” 

“Something tells me you shouldn’t be alone.” Bull coughed.  “What are you working on, anyway?”  

Avexis slumped. “Something Sigrid showed me – that a knot, with a spell behind it, holds until you release the knot.  It’s a quick protection - and with us down here and Dagna sick back at-” her words ended abruptly.  “I want to contribute more.” 

“Uh huh,” Bull’s voice was light, easy. “Why don’t you want to talk about Skyhold?” 

“It’s complicated.” 

“Must be, if it’s got you tying knots.” 

Avexis gave up, and stared at him. “Bull, do you think I’m useless?” 

He laughed, “You’re kidding, right? You’re bad ass.” 

“Not in a fight. In… life.  Day to day.  I know I can fight.  But after this is over, what can I do?” 

Bull raised his eyebrows, “I’d take you for a Charger, any damn day, Boss.” 

“I don’t want to be a merc. No offense.” 

“Eh, Cullen would skin me alive anyway.” Avexis flinched at her lover’s name, and Bull paused, “That’s a reaction.  Need to talk?” 

“When I went with Cullen to Honnleath, we, well, I, discovered his mother was a hedge-witch.” Avexis hissed the last, looking around like it was a secret.  It was, rather.  Neither of them had mentioned it.  “She had slipped wards into everything – from the hearth to the window frames.  It was so…” she searched for a better word. 

“Useful?” 

“Oui.” Avexis slumped.  “I can kill an Avvar god, turn into a fucking dragon, take down a darkspawn magister from the dawn of time, bring back the dead to fight the living, but I can’t do anything _practical_.” 

“Lighting fires is practical, Boss. Takes forever without magic.  Safer with flint, maybe, but slower.” 

Bull paused, looking at Avexis. His next words came slow, considered and even. “Practical is also relative. In your life right now, killing an Avvar God and turning into a dragon has been practical. Probably not life skills you’ll need later, but they’ve kept you alive. Staying alive is a practical skill, if you ask me.” 

“I can do one thing, then,” she sighed, and leaned her head on her knees, letting the knot dangle to her knees. “Compared to Sigrid, I’m a dead weight, when we’re not fighting.  I’m the hand everyone hauls around to close rifts.  I’m a body to be fed, told to sleep, shaken awake when it’s time, and told to fight again.  I can’t heal, can barely keep a barrier up if the mark isn’t in the mood to help.  I can’t cook.  I can’t make anything that doesn’t involve yarn.  I – I don’t want to be like that anymore.”  A tear ran down her face, and she wiped it away with the hand holding the rope.  “Avvar magic is beautiful, simple, and to the point.  It doesn’t lend itself to erudition, like the Circle.  It’s for using all the simple things around you to make life better.  Easier.  It’s practical.” 

Bull nodded, “Must be why it didn’t feel creepy, until we met that necromancer dude, anyway.” 

Avexis shrugged. “That was very dark necromancy.  But still - it’s too close to what I learned from Viius to be unique to the Avvar.  It was obviously Venatori influence.  But Stone Bear Hold isn’t like that.  The Augur’s magic tasted like saltwater – not good for drinking, but purifying.  It served its purpose.”  Avexis stroked the rope between her fingers.  “So I want to do this.  I want to learn simple protections.  And all I can think is how ‘it’s not my field’.”  Another tear ran down her cheek.  “I’m so fucking useless.”  She clenched her jaw again. 

Bull stared at the rope.   “Dorian says magic is about wanting it bad enough, nine times out of ten.” 

Avexis thought for a moment. “That’s overly simplified, but… I suppose.  It’s about directing your will, certainly.” 

“Then why should it matter what kind of a knot you use?” 

Avexis blinked, “I… I don’t know. Tradition?  And intention.  If you’re making a lover’s knot, you use two pieces of rope, and make them into one design.”  She pulled yarn out of her bag, and showed him, drawing the loops effortlessly.  “See?  Avvar fishermen even hire mages to harness the wind using a series of sailor’s knots.”  Her face glowed a little in the lavalight.  “They have applications the Circle hasn’t even began to think about.” 

“Huh, the Qun does the same thing with Saarebas. Not with knots, but… you know.”  

Avexis shuddered, but continued. “Sigrid showed me a few, but I can’t remember them.”  She sniffed, “It’s not like there is wind – or boats - down here to play with anyway.  Maybe if there was I’d be making more progress.” 

“Okay,” Bull allowed. “That sort of makes sense, for something crazy.  But for ordinary stuff, ordinary knots – as long as they hold - would work, right?  I can see you using a lover’s knot for protecting Cullen, but it’s not super useful for the rest of us.”  Avexis swallowed, considering the possibilities of doing just that, and Bull’s eyes narrowed.  “He’s no better, then?” 

“Leliana’s letter indicated only that he had the best care in Bethany and Anders,” she bit off. “Hard to know, really.  But as long as Bethany stays… he’ll get better.  I might not trust Fiona, but I trust her.”  Avexis grabbed the rope with her marked hand, and pulled the knot taut.  “She’d better not leave now.  If Cullen dies, I’ll never forgive her.” 

“Yeah… about forgiveness,” drawled Bull, “That’s what’s really going on. You feel guilty.” 

Avexis stared at the knot, picking it free. “I – I have no reason to feel guilty.” 

“Sure you do.” 

“What the fuck, Bull?” Avexis’ hair raised with static.  “Whose side are you on?” 

“Yours. But you should feel guilty.  You’re responsible for a fuckton of mages, all used to living their new lives, and then you went and got the Seeker nominated for Divine, and Vivienne their Grand Enchanter.  Neither are known for mage rights.  So… what are you going to do about it?” 

“I… don’t know.” Avexis’ fingers tightened. “I haven’t thought enough.  I agonized over backing anyone for Divine.  And then I did, when Cassandra got shook about Ameridan, but Rylen had proposed, and I didn’t know!  And Cassandra doesn’t want to be Divine, and Rylen thought they’d broken up, and then he decided he didn’t care if she was Divine, as long as they could be together, and Cullen wants me to think about the future… but now he’s sick, maybe even dead, and I can’t leave-” she shook her head.  “You know about that part.” 

“Bullshit, Boss. You’ve thought plenty. Aren’t you capable of making your own decisions?” 

“Of course I am,” but her voice was small. “It’s just when I do, I fuck things up.  Like the Sunburst Throne, and recruiting Vivienne, and… Wycome.” 

“Gotcha.” Bull was quiet for a long minute.  “Congratulations on leading the Inquisition.” 

“A little late, Bull.” 

“Nope. Seems to me you just finally realized that choices have consequences.  And now you’re scared to move, because you’re afraid something will blow up in your face.  Again.  And so you’re hyper-focusing on controlling what you can so you can stop bad stuff from happening with little knots in string.  Like I said, you’re a leader now.  So, congratulations, Inquisitor.” 

“Fuck,” Avexis shivered. 

“You’re doing fine. The Civil War’s over, and Briala and Celene haven’t openly bickered in like, months.  So Orlais is good.  Yeah, the Seeker is going to kebab someone if Rylen doesn’t come around spouting poetry and flinging roses at her feet, but hey, Cass is happiest when she’s impaling something with a sword, or being impaled with a… You know.  My money is on Rylen coming through.  She lifts her finger, and he’ll start eating stinky cheese and saying, ‘Oui, oui, oui’.  If she doesn’t stab him first for asking without preparing her mentally for what was going on in his besotted little brain.”  Bull frowned.  “Huh.  I need to speak to Dorian ‘bout some things, come to think of it.” 

Avexis choked, “You’re probably right about that.” 

“But, that’s their business. You don’t want to get between two passionate people when love’s on the line.”  Bull thought for a moment.  “Corypheshit’s dead and gone.  So, you’re good there, too.  Lots of people still left alive – and it’s the living that matters.  Seems to me, your only real business is with the mages, and Cullen, and you’ve got time to figure both of those out.  Ma’am’s power is low, she’s pissed about that, too. A lot of loyalists didn’t side with her in the end.  Followed _your_ lead.” 

“I’m not a Loyalist any longer,” her voice shook. “I’m an Aequitarian.  And I might not get a chance to sort anything out with Cullen, if he doesn’t get better.” 

“Doesn’t really matter what side you’re on if it’s not hers. Anyway, one thing at a time, Boss. Pretty sure all the focus in the world can’t stop Influenza with knots in string.  As for being an Aequitarian - are you?”  Bull snorted.  “Nah.  You spoke to Bethany, and I can read her like a book.  Even before we left she was losing sleep over what happens to Anders when the Circles are reformed.  She’s got one foot out the gate already, ready to run.  Their stuff’s been packed since Skyhold got your letter to Josie.  You don’t want her to spend the rest of her life running – especially if she’s the only one can save Cullen’s life.  So – you want equality?  That means you want liberty.  Look to the rebels, Boss, if you need a group to belong to.  You’re one of them, now.” 

“Merde,” Avexis’ voice shook. “I elected an Aequitarian sympathizer for Divine…” 

“Probably. I mean, the Revered Mothers will do their thing – it’s their job.  They don’t have to listen to your opinion.”  Bull coughed, “But this is one of those times that I wish I still had a handful of decent contacts.  Anyway, it’s out of your hands now.  The mages though - you can’t lead a fuckton of horses to water and not stay to make sure they drink.” 

“Most mages don’t ride. And I don’t think that’s the way that saying goes.” 

“Works better this way.” 

“I have to protect them,” Avexis swallowed, and stroked the rope. 

“Not listening to me, Boss. The protection will end if, and when, the Inquisition does.  They – and you – have to start learning how to take care of themselves. You’ve got to put them in a position where they can take care of themselves, so that they don’t start following the first charismatic leader that presents himself.  That’s how we ended up with Alexius enslaving them all. That’s how we ended up with Wardens following Corypheus,” Bull shoved her sideways with his shoulder.  “So that starts with you, learning to be an example and a leader.  You’re what they’ve got, now that Fiona’s been tossed out on her ear.  If you can’t take care of yourself, without Cass, without Cullen, then you’ve got no point being out of a Circle yourself.  And neither do they.  And you’re not going to get anywhere with that until you stop spending your time fussing over things you can’t change.” 

Avexis scowled, hating he was right. “Where do I even start?” 

Bull grinned wide, and slapped her back. “Now you’re talking, Boss.  Let’s get to work making a rebel out of you.”  He stood up.  “First, you’re in luck.  We’ve got nothing but time down here.  Sigrid can cook – only a little spicier than how a bland Fereldan likes it, and Koslun knows that Cullen fucking needs his palette expanded – and she can help you learn how to preserve food.  That’s important, when you’re dealing with a whole season when nothing grows.  You can only eat so much rice, trust me.  Though I have a couple of good dessert recipes when you get that far.  Blackwall and I can teach you how to take care of your own mounts, and that kind of thing.  It’ll come easy for you, as soon as you realize that just because a horse wants an apple doesn’t mean he should have an apple.” 

“What does that have to do with…” 

But Bull talked over her, “You’ll need to learn housekeeping stuff, because when you don’t have servants to take care of that crap for you, you need to know. I can teach you how to budget-” 

“Budget? Cooking?  What does this have to do with learning to lead the rebel mages?” 

“You lead by example, boss. If you aren’t planning on sticking around Josie all your life, you’ve got to figure out how to handle your own money and feed yourself.  Otherwise you’ll splurge your entire savings on tiny cakes and pet nugs.”  Bull winked his one eye.  “Money flow is a big deal when you’re dealing with a merc group that’s gotten addicted to eating regular.  A merc group is a lot like a household – without the house.  Makes it easier, some ways, harder in others.” 

Avexis frowned, “Cullen knows these things, doesn’t he?” 

“Maybe, maybe not. Who knows what the fuck the Chantry teaches Templars? Is he on his deathbed, or not?” 

Avexis hit him.

Bull laughed, rubbing his arm. “Sorry.  Doesn’t matter anyway. You need to pull your own weight in the relationship.  What happens if he gets himself run over by a cart someday?  You need to be able to do this stuff when he’s not around.”  Bull nodded, with a thoughtful outthrust lower lip.  “You know what, let’s get everybody over here.  We need to make a list of stuff the Boss has no clue about.  Get you started.  In the meantime, you’re making dinner.”

Avexis shuddered, “I take it you don’t intend to eat tonight?”

“Stew’s easy. You just throw stuff in a pot with some water and let it simmer.  I’ll help with the spices and salt.  You aren’t in this alone, Boss.”

 


	18. Two Men Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm not going to get a chance to post on Monday, so I'm doing while I do have time.

Another four days in, and Avexis had had it with the life lessons. 

She’d burned the stew three days running, and when it hadn’t burnt, she’d used too much pepper and rendered it nearly inedible. She’d made a hash of trying to mend Blackwall’s socks, and ended up merely promising him new ones, as soon as she had time.  On top of that, Sigrid screamed at her, for throwing the ladle against the wall when she’d turned the morning porridge into morning gruel by using too much water.  She’d fled immediately afterward, leaving the now cracked serving spoon where it landed. 

She was trying so hard, and it didn’t seem to matter. Magic was easy in comparison. 

The Deep Roads were easy, in comparison. In fact, in the last three weeks, the only thing that had gone well was their constant descent deeper into the bowels of Thedas. 

At least she could be the Inquisitor. She snatched the latest missives out of the hands of the scout with a scowl that had the poor girl running for cover, and ripped open the letter with _Captain_ Roberson’s neat handwriting spelling out her title. 

And fell to her knees.

 

> _Inquisitor,_
> 
> _I regret to inform you that in light of the Commander’s ongoing illness, Leliana and Josie have appointed me as his permanent replacement. It is unlikely the Commander will be able to take up his position in the foreseeable future._
> 
> _I can take his rank, but never fill his shoes. He was the best officer I’ve ever had the honor of serving under._
> 
> _I pray that the Maker will preserve him._
> 
> _Sincerely,_
> 
> _Commander Roberson_

 

She rocked forward, grit under her palms, eyes blurred, breathing short. 

“Avexis! I wasn’t done with you!” Sigrid skidded to her side, small pebbles rolling out of her way.  She picked up the letter.  “Oh.  Oh, no.  I’m so…” 

“Don’t say you’re sorry,” Avexis gasped out. “Don’t.  I should have never have come.  This is insane.  A… how do you say it – wild goose chase.  If I’d been there…” 

“You couldn’t have done anything.” 

“I can always do something! I could have seen that he was sick before we left… I could have made him see a healer… I could have… Fuck!” She grabbed the letter back and threw it into the lava stream.  It flared and disappeared in an instant.  She stood.  “Cole!” 

“Yes?” He looked up from under his massive hat. 

“Cullen – is he…” 

“I can’t hear him.” The man admitted.  “I think it’s the lyrium.  It’s so loud…” 

Avexis crumpled, and then rallied, “Can you go back to Skyhold…” 

“We’re weeks from the surface,” Sigrid snapped. “Pull yourself together.  People get sick.  They die.  It happens.” 

“He’s not…” her words stopped. “Il ne morte pas.  Non.” 

“He might be by now,” Sigrid’s eyes softened. “Avexis, you have to see that.  He was already exhausted from fighting the lyrium – his body might have given out.  I’m a healer – I know these things.” 

“NO!” She stomped her foot. “I have to go home.” 

“Then let’s go,” Bull exchanged a glance with Thom, who rose to his feet, slowly. “Let’s go to that ancient lift, go into the black, and get you back home.”

 

<DT>

 

“Renn!” The lieutenant gasped for breath.  Avexis finished off her last enemy with a vicious slice through their protective gear, and ran, barely pausing to wonder at the way the armor melded with their skin. 

Blood pooled beneath him, and he gaped, gasping for air. Valta was across the room, unconscious, with Cole muttering to her under his breath, unaware that her partner was… “Sigrid!  There’s nothing you can do, right?” 

Sigrid approached, cautiously, held out her hands, and then shook her head. “Too much blood lost.” 

“Would have liked to see a dragon,” his eyes grew blurry, unfocused. 

“He’s going,” Sigrid whispered. “Say your goodbyes.  I can hold him that long…” 

Avexis shifted uncomfortably on her feet. “I… I can help with that.  As a gesture of gratitude.” 

“I’m not going to make it to the surface,” he grunted with effort. “And if you know where an archdemon is, it can just fucking stay there, for all I’m concerned.  Fighting the little guys is bad enough.” 

“Actually,” Avexis sighed, and backed up. She closed her eyes, and transformed, scales glowing in the dim light of the lyrium. 

“By my Grandsire’s stones,” his voice shook. “You’re a.  But you’re not.  But you…” he laughed.  “Don’t tell Valta.  You can imagine the questions.” 

Avexis shifted back, landing on all fours. It had been awhile, and it was hard – especially when she had been fighting for hours, with depleted mana.  “Most people do,” she panted. 

“Can all mages do that?”

She shook her head, silent. 

“Can you fight like one?” He tilted back his head, thinking, “If Valta’s right, and there is a Titan, it’s gotta be big.”  His eyes were brighter.  Sigrid was keeping him alive to finish the conversation. 

“I can, and I have before,” Avexis hesitated. “I promised someone I wouldn’t, unless it was necessary.”  Cullen seemed a million miles away right now, and she shoved down her worry.  Roberson’s letters were strictly professional, and even Leliana’s letters had stopped.  Josie – long since recovered - said she’d gone to Val Royeaux…   Then again, if turning into a dragon got her back to Cullen, she’d do it.  “But if I need to, I can.” 

“Worth a shot,” she took his hand. “Tell Valta my death was like the stories, okay?” 

“Like all the stories,” Avexis’ voice shook. “You’re a big fucking hero, Renn.” 

“That’s – That’s what I like to hear.” His eyes went dim, as Sigrid let the magic and his soul go.

 

 

<DT>

 

Cullen woke to too-bright light streaming in through the open doors in the Inquisitor’s quarters. He struggled to sit up, but a hand laid on his bare chest stopped him. 

“Don’t move,” Anders whispered. “You’re going to need Bethany to release the spell.  Remind me never to suggest having Bethany restrain me in bed.  She’s held it for _weeks_ now.” 

“What…” his voice sounded hoarse. “What happened?” 

“You had one of the worst cases of the flu that I’ve ever seen – in someone that lived, anyway,” the mage sighed. “We weren’t sure for a while there if you were going to make it.” 

“The flu?” 

“You’ve been ill,” Bethany looked tired, skinnier as she stepped to his side. “Do you know who I am, Cullen?” 

Cullen let his head fall back. “How long has it been?” 

“Answer me, first.” 

“You’re Bethany Hawke.” The healer relaxed, and turned away with a watery smile, and the constraints on his chest released. 

“Nearly a month, since you first showed symptoms. A week since you’ve been… conscious.”  Anders rolled his neck.  “You’re fucking lucky, Templar.” 

Cullen struggled to make his muscles obey. “Then Avexis should be back.  Could you fetch her, please?” 

Anders and Bethany exchanged glances, and Bethany turned away, not before Cullen saw the flash of worry. “She’s been… out of touch for a while.  But don’t worry about that now.  Commander Roberson has the situation in hand.”  Anders soothed. 

“Who?” 

“Your second?” Anders prompted. “She was given an emergency field promotion.  You were in no state to do any commanding.  Someone had to do it.” 

“Well, I’m fine now…” he tried once again to sit up, but his muscles stayed limp as he struggled. 

“Stop that,” Anders sighed again, and maneuvered him into a sitting position. “We’ll let you sit up for a half an hour or so, but then it’s back to beddy-bye for you, Ser Cullen.” 

“I need to get up, get out of here. There’s too much to do for me to lie abed.” 

Bethany turned, and her knuckles were white. “Cullen, you’ve been relieved of command for health reasons.  The only thing you need to do is eat this broth, rehydrate, gain some weight back, and get well.” 

Cullen scowled at her, and she scowled right back. He slumped, defeated.  “Can I have something besides broth?” 

“No, because I’m not cleaning up a Templar’s vomit,” Anders grinned at him, however. “Drink your broth like a good boy, Cullen.”   

“You’re loving this entirely too much,” he muttered around the mug held to his lips. 

“Oh, I am.” Anders winked.  “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted a Templar flat on his back and at my mercy.” 

Cullen choked on the thin broth, and Bethany groaned. “Anders… ” 

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll be good.”  The mage winked.  “Go ahead and see to your other patients, love.” 

She left the room after a few instructions, and Cullen took the opportunity to grasp Anders’ wrist, hating how much effort it took to hold his arm in place. “Avexis, is she-” 

Anders met his eyes. “We last heard from her two weeks ago.  Leliana isn’t here – but Charter has sent extra scouts. When she’s spotted, we’ll know in a matter of days, Cullen.” 

“That’s not good enough.” 

“It will have to be.” Anders paused.  “Cullen – she knows you were ill.  The Commander told her.  She could be on her way back to the surface.” 

Cullen closed his eyes, “And the earthquakes?” 

“Last one was yesterday afternoon.” Anders shrugged.  “The experts say it’s too soon to tell.  But we were having a few a day before that, so…” 

“She did it,” he let himself lay back against the pillows. “They did it.” 

“It’s too soon to tell.” 

“No,” Cullen allowed himself a sweet smile. “She did it.”  He had faith. He closed his eyes, and started to drift off, after one last struggle to whisper, “And I’m not a Templar.” 

As sleep took him farther down into its pillowy softness, he heard Anders soft laughter. It was comforting, somehow.

 


	19. Cheese, Nugs, and Ancient Lifts

It took a week to find a path through the darkness at the bottom of the lift. Avexis calculated another two days of fighting the Sha-Brytol at the natural bridge over the sea made of lyrium. It took a day and a half to rest up and heal what they could before they could once again advance into the darkness. At times, while the others slept, Avexis looked out at the sea of liquid lyrium, contemplating the riches, and dangers, that sea held. So much lyrium, in a liquid state, not crystal, boggled the mind. 

Avexis was sick of darkness. She could hear lyrium buzzing and singing all around her. She stumbled again on a stone in her path. Bull hauled her to her feet, and she called out to the rest of her companions. “Hang on and close your eyes.” She knelt, and laid her hand on the floor, sending a single spark of lightning through, - not enough to cause the crystalized lyrium to explode, but enough to make it blaze. She was blinded for a moment, and when her sight returned, the brightness had left images on her eyes. 

“Shit!” Thom shielded his own.  “That smarts.” 

“Better than perpetual midnight,” Avexis snarled, and marched on. 

Valta had been quiet, speaking only when they found the ancient murals. Her grief ran deep, but despite – or perhaps because of Renn’s death - she was treating this area past the Deep Roads like someplace holy.  Perhaps to the dwarves, it was – Avexis wasn’t anything like an expert on dwarven culture.  But Valta merely hummed as they approached another mural, reading it as much as she could, while Avexis gestured them all towards another source of light, not so far away. 

She stepped through into a cavern, following a mental horde of voices, her eyes widening. 

Before her sat a Nug, with a crown on his head. He stared at her, unblinking, as he squeaked and snorted.  Avexis, remembering a rhyme from weeks before, pulled out an ancient cheese wheel, and put it before him.  He squeaked his approval. 

“By Korth’s name, what-“ Sigrid began, stumbling after her. “Is that a _nug?_ ” 

“Shhh,” Avexis whispered. Around them, the room filled in with the burrowing subterranean animals.  “Something’s happening.” 

“You think?” Sigrid snarked, but quieted when the King glared at her through pig-like eyes. “I’m feeling very judged.” 

_You should be, nug-eater._ The King squeaked, transferring his attention to Avexis. _You may translate for us, friend._

_Friend? How am I your…_

_You let one of us go. You never killed us for our skins alone.  Or for the sport.  When you killed, it was by accident, or because you needed the food. We respect need and some of us are dumber than they should be._ The nug’s chin lifted.  _Translate for the nug-eater. We need her to bear witness._

“He says, ‘You should feel judged.’” Avexis fumbled to translate the better portion. 

“I should what?” 

“He called you ‘nug-eater’.” 

“Of course I am! So are you!” 

“I showed mercy, apparently.” 

_Silence!_ The Nug King announced, in his high squeaky voice. _I will now bestow the most ancient of honors upon Inquisitor Cheesefriend!_

Avexis translated, and Sigrid snorted. “Now there’s a legend-mark to be proud of.  Inquisitor First-Thaw, Cheesefriend to Nugs.” 

_Silence!_ Even Sigrid fell silent at the authoritative squeak.  _In honor of your kindness to nugkind, we will be sending an ambassador back with you. Ambassador Littlefinger?_

A dapper, spotted nug with overlarge ears stepped forward, and Avexis narrowly stopped herself from cooing. Her voice was therefore choked when she managed a gracious, “Welcome to the Inquisition, Ambassador.” 

“Ambassador?” 

“Shhh. You’re insulting the King.” 

“Right.” Sigrid hardly looked bothered.  “We can’t have offended nugs running around.” 

Avexis chose to ignore her. “I’m honored, Your Majesty.” 

_Good. You should be._

The King took his leave, and Avexis stumbled out of the room, for once, her mind on something other than Renn’s death, or Cullen. “Um, Ambassador?” 

The Nug squeaked, somehow managing to be dignified, even while his ears twitched. 

“Can you make your way back to the camp? I don’t have any bodyguards suitable for a nug of your diplomatic importance.” 

The Nug squeaked an affirmative. 

“Excellent. I will see you when we’re done with the Titan, then.” 

The Nug ran off into the distance, and Avexis turned back to where she’d left the rest of their party. 

“I have no idea what just happened,” Sigrid said, from behind her. 

“Where were you guys? Valta thinks we’re there,” Thom gestured at the anxious woman. 

“The Inquisition made an alliance with the Court of the Nugs, is all,” Avexis shrugged. “It’s easier not to question, I think.” 

“I can’t wait for Leliana to meet the new Ambassador. How long before she puts him in clothes?” Bull laughed. “Josie isn’t going to believe this shit.” 

“So, better not to question, right?” Sigrid cleared her throat. “So, we’ve found the Titan then?” 

“We’d best get it down.” Avexis’ eyes clouded.  “Do you think we’re too late?” 

“Only one way to find out.” Sigrid drew down her staff.  “Come on.”

<DT>

 

The cavern was massive – a roof so high that it looked more like the sky than anything else. Valta and Avexis entered slowly, staring around at all the _life_ surrounding them, so far underground.  She couldn’t shake the feeling that this was where the dwarves were meant to live – in this colossal chamber that thrummed with lyrium unseen. 

Unless the lyrium was the source of light here, as well. It was as bright as midmorning sun – reflecting off the white stone the ancient structures were built out of, with staircases climbing up towers to lookouts that didn’t seem to overlook anything at all but boundless chasms. 

Her friends wandered over a bridge, gawking, forgetting to be cautious, chattering on about how different this was than the rest of the Deep Roads. 

And that, of course, was when the Shy-Brytol attacked. “We don’t want to hurt you!” Valta yelled at them, but they didn’t respond, attacking where they saw a threat.  Her friends, startled into action, slew them all. 

After the battle Avexis rubbed her eyes, stinging with emotion. “I’m sorry, Valta…” 

“Why won’t they speak to us?” The woman queried, more questioning than grieving in the moment. “What are they protecting?” 

The small group wandered out over another stone bridge, slow and careful now that they’d been caught out once. “Wait…” Valta stopped, eyes wide.  “The rhythm.  It… it leads here.  It begins here.” 

Avexis stared around her. Other than the empty circular courtyard in front of them, there was nothing there.  And yet… there was a strange pulsing, alien and strange, more of a pressure on her ears than anything else.  “Valta…” 

“Yes.” The dwarf stepped forward, and… something rose out of the courtyard.  “Yes, this is the Titan.  I can feel it!”  Face glowing, the woman stepped forward eagerly. 

The creature – if it was truly alive – shot something like _magic_ out of a tendril, straight into Valta’s chest. 

“No!” Sigrid ran to the woman’s side and tried to heal her.  “What magic is this?” 

“It can’t be magic. Those are dwarves.  It’s impossible,” Thom protested. 

“I just witnessed a Nug King forming an alliance with the Inquisition,” the woman snapped at the warrior. “I’d say we’re dealing with a lot of impossibilities today.” 

“Then what’s one more?” Bull unslung his axe, “What’s the word, boss?” Together they watched the… thing whip its tentacles around, almost lazily.  “Do we attack?”  The ground beneath it glowed menancingly, and what looked like patterns appeared in the stone tile around it. 

“It’s guarding something, just like the Shy-Brytol,” Avexis breathed. She didn’t recognize the designs, but they were identical, all around.  “It’s…” she shook her head.  “Sigrid – is Valta injured?” 

“A shock to the nervous system, from what I can tell.” The healer looked up.  “I don’t know how bad it is.” 

“You don’t know?” Avexis bit her lip, undecided, as another whip-like tendril flashed out and snapped at them, just out of reach.  “Why isn’t it blasting away at us?  Why only Valta?” 

“It might not see us as a threat,” Bull offered. “I mean, who comes down here, right?  The odd lost dwarf, is my best bet.  It might never have had to deal with elves and humans and Vashoth.” 

“Maybe it wasn’t trying to hurt Valta.” Sigrid continued, “Maybe it was trying to communicate. We don’t know anything about this… well, thing. That could be how it talks to the Sha-Brytol, and since Valta isn’t covered in Lyrium armor, it hurt her instead?” 

“That’s possible, I suppose.” Avexis stepped towards it and hesitated again. “Cole… are you getting anything?” 

“No.” 

“We have to do something,” frustrated, she slammed the end of her staff into the ground, and immediately, the creature reacted, throwing up some sort of shield. “Mon Createur,” she breathed. “that’s… it’s using lyrium.  Its own lyrium.”  She blinked, hurriedly, the power emanating from the core of what might, after all, be a Titan.  “This doesn’t feel right,” she said aloud, taking another step closer. 

“Boss…” Bull rumbled, “not sure you want to…” 

In an instant, one of the whips slashed across her cheek. Stunned, Avexis lifted her glove to the cut, and stared at the blood. 

“That’s it,” Bull growled, “I’m going in.” 

“Stop,” Avexis held out her arm. “Perhaps it was merely a… reflex?” 

“If that’s the case, its reflexes are deadly,” Thom swung his shield out in front of him. “At least let me go first, Inquisitor.” 

Avexis nodded, and stepped back, out of the reach of the Titan. “Go ahead.” 

Thom made it three steps further before a tentacle whipped forward, caught his shield, and knocked him on his back. Wheezing, he struggled to get back to the safety of the group. 

“All right,” Avexis decided, “We have to stop the earthquakes, and if it’s causing them, we don’t have another option.” She took a breath, “Take it down.” 

Bull roared, and ran forward, dodging the flinging vines with a level of precision and speed that belied his size. Thom threw up his guard, and braced himself, shieldbashing at a single tendril until it retreated, vanquished.  Sigrid rose from her place at Valta’s side, casting barriers over her teammates. 

And Avexis stepped back further, until she was standing over Valta’s still prone body, and transformed. 

She felt the dragon shape emerge – quicker than usual, as if her magic was feeding off the omnipresent lyrium that she’d been traveling in for days. Avexis roared her defiance at the Titan, and it… hummed back at her. 

She didn’t hesitate again, launching herself at it and snapping at the flailing appendages with her jaws. They snapped off, bleeding lyrium like sap, and she recoiled immediately. 

But the dragon form didn’t react to the raw liquid – not like her mage self would have. It should have sent her into a coma, at the least – wipe her memories and send her catatonic.  Instead, she merely felt more powerful, and she screamed at the thing, stunning it briefly enough for Bull to hack through another limb.  Carefully, she lashed lightening at it, sparking small fires in the dripping stumps of the creature’s limbs that made it thrash even more. 

It went on that way for what seemed like ages – hacked branches strewn on the ground leaking pure lyrium into puddles that everyone had to dodge, lighting them on fire to disorient it, while Bull and Blackwall started all over again. 

Avexis, even in her dragon form, found it hard not to think about the implications of the Titan bleeding lyrium. She didn’t regularly use the stuff, but Cullen, the rest of the Templars, even the Red Templars – that they were imbibing of something so… she forced the thoughts to end with worrying about the dwarven economy.  The thoughts were unproductive, and she had bigger things to worry about.  Thom was wheezing with his exertions, and even Bull was flagging, his skin greyer than usual. 

All at once, the thing ceased, and sank back into the courtyard. 

“Valta?” Sigrid stepped towards the woman’s body, and Avexis mentally prepared herself again for the inevitable death… but no. 

The dwarf woman was shoving herself upright. “It’s… all right.  I’m all right.”  Avexis transformed again, hunched over, willing herself to be an elf again. 

“Valta… was that a Titan?” 

“No,” the dwarf’s face was shining. “That was… an ancient guardian.”  Her eyes glowed, eerie and beautiful, even in the bright glare.  “But it’s all right,” she repeated again.  “I’m… here now.  It… needed me.”

“Needed you?” Avexis rasped. “How?  Why? _”_ She wanted to ask if the earthquakes were a message – but it sounded insane, even in her head. 

Valta didn’t answer – her eyes hazy with questions unasked – but for once, they weren’t directed towards Avexis at all. 

She had to try once more. “Valta – is that guardian thing made out of lyrium?” 

“We understand so little,” is all she murmured. “So little.”  She broke herself free from her daze.  “I apologize, Inquisitor.  The earthquakes will stop, now that I’m here.” 

“Well, that’s something, anyway,” Sigrid groused. 

“What about Orzamaar’s economy?” Avexis asked, urgently.  “What should I tell them?  You can’t intend to stay…” 

“I can, and I will,” the woman pressed her lips together. “Forgive me, Inquisitor, but – you should tell Orzamaar the truth – you don’t know what happened here.” 

“But you do?” 

If she did, the expression on the woman’s face told her that she had no intention of telling her. Avexis shuddered at her spooky smile.  “What will you eat?” 

“I’ve been in the Deep Roads for years,” she laughed. “I’ll manage.” 

“I can’t just leave you here! What will the Shaperate say?” 

“Nothing at all,” she actually giggled. “They were done with me, long ago.  Goodbye, Inquisitor.” 

Bull nudged her between her shoulder blades. “I think that’s our cue, Boss.  Cullen’s sick, remember?” 

So Avexis let herself be pulled away, only turning once she was over the bridge. “Let’s go home,” she said, at last, and braced herself for the long walk back to the ancient lift. 

At least there would be no Shy-Brytol to delay their return.

 


	20. Into the Light

>  
> 
> _Dear Commander Roberson, Ambassador Montilyet, and Spymaster Leliana,_
> 
> _I have accomplished what I set out to do. I’m enclosing Shaper Valta’s notes on a being called a ‘Titan’, which we encountered once past the Deep Roads.  Unfortunately, Shaper Valta will not be returning to Orzamaar, for… personal reasons.  I have endeavored to explain at the end of her notes.  It’s complicated, so I’ve written it in Orlesian.  My apologies if our new Commander doesn’t speak the language, but I’m sure one of you can translate for her._
> 
> _Lieutenant Renn died as befits a warrior of the Legion. We were honored to have served with him.  Josie, please see that Orzamaar is notified of his death, and Valta’s subsequent departure._
> 
> _Leliana – you know what I need to know better than I do. I’m heading back to the surface as soon as I can finish sorting out the last difficulties with the Legion.  I will expect a FULL report by the time I arrive.  I also have a new recruit of sorts, that I believe will be suited to your particular skills.  Josie, please have a welcoming cheese tray prepared for our illustrious guest, Ambassador Littlefinger.  Older is best._
> 
> _Commander Roberson – please have a briefing ready for me on the state of the Orlesian withdrawal. And… congratulations on your promotion._
> 
> _Cordially,_
> 
> _Inquisitor Avexis_

 

She knew it was stiff, but she didn’t know what else to say. There were no letters waiting for her from Cullen at the Legion camp.  Either he was still incapacitated, or he was - but surely someone would have said if- 

She wasn’t letting herself think about that. Avexis went through the motions of her work with the Legion, hardly caring as she arranged for the preservation of Thaigs and monuments.  She updated Renn’s successor with the tale of his death, standing aside as his body was returned to the Stone.  Valta hadn’t been part of the Legion, and her disappearance seemed to be taken for granted. 

Her stay was filled with awkward conversations about what they’d found, and what she didn’t understand. She longed to head for the surface like her new nug friend longed for cheese.  He chattered constantly with her about the difference between textures, sharp and mild, and soft vs. hard.  She’d never met such an opinionated nug, though in all honesty, she hadn’t spoken to many nugs.  Before now, they hadn’t come off as conversationalists. 

Josie would adore him. 

It took her a week to sort everything out to her satisfaction, and then she finally started the slow climb to the lift, and the slow ride back to the surface, and to Cullen. 

His name was a drumbeat in her heart, and she was unsure whether to hope or grieve. Either way, when she reached the surface camp, there would be someone to ask.  She’d know for sure.

 

<DT>

 

Cullen waited at the encampment’s fire, a wool blanket cast over his shoulders, staring back at the river, waiting for a sign of her. 

It was supposed to be today. She was going to spend a few days settling things with the remains of the Legion, and then she was coming back. 

The letter had been all business, and not addressed to him. Naturally.  She was here for business.  Not him.  There had been no letters since she heard he was sick – but he wasn’t going to think about what that might mean.  She didn’t have time and he would have been too sick to read them.  Even now, he was escorted by Bethany and Anders – who had jumped at the chance to return to their small home on the Storm Coast to fetch a few things they’d left behind – and drop off others before their next assignment. 

He was sleeping there, to stay warm. Apparently, his lungs had been weakened – though not permanently.  Yet.  He had to be well - she was alive, and they still had work to do.  Together, hopefully.  To his profound relief, his title had been reinstated by Leliana and Josie. Apparently, his temporary replacement had turned out to be a dour, unimaginative sort who couldn’t take a little teasing over the War Table.  

Officially, he was there as her Commander, ready to escort her where she needed to go, and protect her along the way. He felt as weak as a babe, and she would most likely be protecting him, but that wasn’t the point. Bethany had approved his request to accompany Avexis on her next mission, and he was grateful. Laying about and listening to Anders lecture about Circle politics was overwhelming him. Not that he wasn’t interested, but solid weeks on the subject was quite enough. 

Unofficially, he wanted to see her, desperately. It had been – far too long.  This new request was just the thing.  Bethany approved – the warm air there would be healthier for his recovery, and he could be attended during the journey by her and Anders, as they traveled to meet their new niece.  Other than the rifts, his damnable convalescence, and the fact that it meant going back to fucking Kirkwall, it almost sounded like a pleasure trip. 

His attention was drawn to the coast, where the dragon – Vinsomer, he reminded himself – flew lazily just above the surf. Did that mean… 

“It’s the Inquisitor!” The scouts sent up a cry. He snapped to attention, dropping his blanket – it was undignified - and marched forward to meet her.  The rain instantly ran into his eyes, dripping from the ends of his hair – already out of control in the constant drizzle. 

It was her. She looked pale – too pale, still squinting in the dim sunlight, even after her three-mile hike from the fissure.  He shifted so that he was in the shade, and her eyes found him, widening in her too-thin face so that they threatened to swallow it whole.  He saw her stumble, and then… 

And then she was running. Running towards him, laughing, the rain – was it the rain? - streaming down her cheeks as she wiped it away.  She flung herself at him, and grabbed his collar, yanking him down to her mouth. 

“Umph,” was all he managed before wrapping his own arms around her and lifting her upwards against him, settling his mouth more firmly on hers, and ignoring the soldiers’ whooping around him. She locked her legs around the small of his back, and her arms around his neck, and leaned against his forehead. 

“Cullen – you’re alive.” 

“Alive?” He had to set her down, his weakened muscles too atrophied to support her.  “Who told you I was…” 

“No one,” it wasn’t the rain, he could taste the tears dripping down into her mouth as she kissed him again. “No one did.  No one told me _anything._ I was so afraid… Then Roberson wrote and said she was the Commander now, and I… I…”  she flung herself at him and he leaned back against a rock, tired from the exertion of holding her.  “You should be still in bed.  You’re so thin…” 

“I had to see you.” His breath caught, as she hugged him tighter.  He leaned his cheek against her hair, closing his eyes.  “I do have business, I need to update you on your next destination, but…” 

“But it can fucking wait, for two minutes.” Avexis grabbed his cheeks and searched his eyes.  “I missed you.  Horribly.  I’m sorry, for everything.  I’ve been a selfish – comment dit-on – gosse?” 

“Brat? That can’t be right.” They blinked at each other and then she laughed.  

“Those lessons were well spent. Je t’aime.  Still.” 

“Good,” he whispered. “But we have to…” 

“I know.” Her face firmed with resolve.  “I have to talk to you about the fate of the rebel mages, and about Circle politics.”  Cullen managed to suppress his groan, barely.  “I have to draft a formal letter to Cassandra, and the Grand Enchanter.  I have some ideas, and they need to be enacted at once, to prevent any further disasters from happening while I’m Inquisitor, and after I am no longer Inquisitor.” 

He smiled, “So determined.” 

“You like determined women?” 

“Very much,” His voice was low. “What have you been plotting, in your time underground?” 

“Many things.” Her voice shook, and she glanced at Bull, and then Cole, who was rocking on his heels and beaming at them vaguely.  “I have to take responsibility for what I’ve done, before it all turns to Bronto shit.  I’ve made a poor mix of choices and need to make the Inquisition’s stance clear.”  She took his hand.  “I need to quit using magical thinking to solve my problems, too.  I have to face things.” 

“Do those things happen to include my presence?” 

“That’s what I want,” she took a deep breath. “You are not the problem.  It’s me.” 

Cullen eyed her warily, “That sounds scarily like, ‘It’s not you, it’s me.’” 

“What?” Avexis blinked. 

“An excuse for breaking up with someone.” 

“NO!” She grabbed at his collar. “No, the opposite.  Maker damn it all, Cullen, I’m trying to tell you what I want!” 

“Oh,” he frowned, “Will I think it’s a good thing?” 

“It is good,” she sighed. “Come on.  I need whatever miserable excuse for a bath that I can get, immediately.  What’s your business here?” 

Cullen grinned even wider. “I’m escorting the Inquisitor to Kirkwall for a state visit, to seal rifts for the Viscount, and convalescing from my illness in a place warmer than Skyhold or Ferelden.” 

“You’re voluntarily going back to Kirkwall?” It was her turn to frown, “You get seasick.” 

“Yes.” He didn’t hesitate.  “You’re not the only one who needs to stop running, Ladybird.  And this will give us a chance – on the voyage – to talk, semi-privately.  I need to be honest with you, about where this is going, and what I need from you.” 

“Oh,” her voice shrank. “That sounds like… tu es train de rompre avec moi?” 

“No!” He groaned, and Avexis blinked in shock. “At least, I don’t think so.  If I understood what that meant.  I think I do.  Maker’s breath, you don’t _know_.” 

“Cullen?” 

“Later, Ladybird.” He tugged at her hand and wrapped it in his.  “I’m going to bugger this up, so we might as well take our time before that happens.  I’ll call for your bath, and you must be famished…” 

“I already ordered the bath yesterday.” Avexis nodded at the tent.  “It’s arranged.  I arranged it.  You don’t have to fuss, Cullen.  I have it sorted.  There should be something to eat, as well.  Just for tonight, as it’s late.”  She rolled her head, hesitating, “All my life there’s been someone there to save me, to take care of me.  First Cassandra, then Galyan.  I’m… stunted, that way.  I need to learn to do things for myself.  That’s one of the things I’ve been working on. Bull, Sigrid, and Thom have been teaching me. Or trying to. I’m afraid I’m not the best student.” 

“Oh,” Cullen smiled, “Does that leave room for someone wanting to help?” 

“I hope so,” Avexis squeezed his hand. “I can almost make a stew that’s edible, and I want… I want to take care of someone.” 

Cullen smiled, and relaxed. “I may have had similar thoughts.” 

“Will you stay with me?” Her voice was nearly shy. 

Cullen slumped in disappointment. “I can’t.  Bethany will skin me alive if I don’t stay warm.  I’m supposed to stay at her and Anders’ home – the house up the cliff?  And they’ll be coming to Kirkwall with us, I’m afraid.  They’re going to meet their new niece.” 

“Hawke had her baby?” Avexis pouted. “What else did I miss?” 

“A healthy girl.” He took her hand and squeezed it and drew her close to kiss her again. 

“Enough of that,” Anders’ voice cut in. “You’re in no shape to caboodle, Commander.  Bethy wants you home, now.” 

“The Inquisitor has only just arrived!” 

“Then bring her home for dinner. Bethy won’t mind.  We both have to get back.  She’ll skin me, too, if I don’t get my share of the chores done.  I’m to fetch you and get back to clearing cobwebs.”  Anders shrugged, “Why she’s insisting on power-cleaning when we won’t be back for weeks or months, I don’t know.” 

“I can’t go,” Avexis said, under her breath. “I have duties here…” 

“Of course,” Cullen sighed, disappointed. “Tomorrow, then?” 

“Tomorrow.” 

“If the weather is clear enough,” Anders corrected. “Otherwise, it’s the wagon to Amaranthine, and your Inquisitor can meet us there.  We have to keep you healthy.”  Cullen snarled at him.  “Come now, Commander, if I let you out of my clutches so easily, you’ll just fall right back into my arms, coughing and helpless.  Payback is hell, isn’t it?” 

“Go,” Avexis urged him. “I will see you in the morning.” 

“Avexis, I…” he didn’t want to go. 

“I know. But there’s time.”  She squeezed his hand as well.  “Go on.  Get dry.  You’re completely drenched, Cullen.”  She let go, and turned back to the camp, turning once more with a half-hearted wave for his benefit. 

Cullen slapped Anders’ proffered arm away, with another snarl. “I don’t need help.”

“Tell me that again halfway up the hill.”

 


	21. Breakfast, Hints, and Meeting the Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know. Noone would believe what's happened - since I last posted a chapter for this there have been two more family deaths, one of which I had to travel back to Oregon for.
> 
> I want nothing more to get this back on track, but thank you for your patience while I try to move past grief. 2018 has been a very hard year, so far. May it only get easier.

Avexis’ bed was cold, and damp. One thing the Deep Roads had in their favor was less humidity.  She couldn’t sleep – even though the darkness should have been absolute in the pre-dawn storm.  The pitter-pat of rain on the canvas, and the slow drip of the saturated tent onto her bedroll was maddening. 

Sigrid had chosen to make herself scarce – she suspected that Blackwall had a new tentmate from the low sounds and laughter coming from that direction for at least the last three hours. She couldn’t blame them for waiting to consummate anything until they had the flimsy privacy of a canvas tent – the Deep Roads were about the unsexy-est place in Thedas, after all.  Cole had kept her company at first – only to disappear after a while, muttering about something that was no doubt more critical than her own loneliness. 

There had been remarkably little business to handle after all – her new destination of Kirkwall confirmed, a lively letter from Varric, asking her to stay at the Viscount’s Keep as his guest. Hawke, asking her to visit when she arrived, to meet the baby and let Fenris and Cullen grunt at each other in mutual approbation.  Leliana, explaining her departure to Val Royeaux, apparently to shore up Cassandra’s chances at the Sunburst Throne, and nudge Rylen and her along to some sort of mutual understanding at the same time.  Josie’s delight at her quest’s success, and a crate of gifts from Orzamaar – ignoring the existence of the missing Shaper.  The delayed letter from Cullen, written in a still shaky hand, explaining his illness and intention to accompany her to Kirkwall.  She lingered over that one, her thoughts up in the cabin with him. 

And a letter from, of all people, Mia Rutherford.

 

> _Inquisitor Avexis,_
> 
> _Cullen hasn’t told us much as we’d like about you, but we know a little. And all that really matters is how improved my brother has been since he’s met you.  It’s like we have him back – the way he was before Kinloch – still a terrible correspondent, but our Cullen, all the same._
> 
> _I’ve had more letters from my brother in the last two years than in the 17 years of separation prior. And every blasted one speaks of you.  Of your beauty, and competence, and grace, and faith, and the just cause that’s healing his soul.  I can read between the lines, even if Branson can’t.  I don’t know all the details – and Cullen will never share.  But you ease his burden, Inquisitor, and I would like to thank you in person._
> 
> _We both know Cullen will never ask us to Skyhold. Rosalie thinks that he’s embarrassed by his humble beginnings, but I know that he just doesn’t want us poking around in his business.  He hasn’t changed that much.  And we’re simple people, not like what you’re used to in Val Royeaux, but I would like to extend an invitation to my home in South Reach, so that we can make your acquaintance properly._
> 
> _Branson tells me that it should be phrased different – and that it’s a waste of time to think you’d have time to notice our little family - but I have no idea about the manners involved in such invitations. And Cullen insists you’re too busy to be able to bother with us.  Still, I will make the offer. I want to meet the person who has made our Cullen so happy.  He hasn’t been happy in – I have no idea how long.  Before he left Ferelden, certainly._
> 
> _Humbly, and with all my gratitude,_
> 
> _Mia Rutherford_

 

She would have to discuss this with Cullen. Mia didn’t seem hateful… she did know that she was a mage, and an elf, surely? 

She rolled over, wishing he were here to discuss the matter. She hadn’t even dared hope that he would meet her… but knowing he was just up the damn hill… 

She gave up on sleep and emerged from the tent into the pale light of pre-dawn. 

All the darkness beneath the surface had improved her night vision. She could clearly see the outline of the house on the cliff, windows still glowing dimly with the light of the banked fire.  Cullen was there, sleeping soundly, she hoped. 

She wrapped her blanket around herself and crossed to the large rocks on the outskirts of the encampment, nodding to the nightwatch. “Inquisitor,” they greeted her, and moved away.  She curled up, knees to her chest, and leaned against them, staring at the stars. 

_You’re even louder. What were you doing underground – learning how to mentally yodel?  You might as well be shouting, even from this distance._

Avexis laughed. _Vinsomer. Bonjour._

_It’s still dark, you imbecile._

_I’m aware._

_Are you nocturnal as well? Should I come for a visit?  Or will those nugs-for-brains with the pointy sticks they call weapons attack me at first sight?_

_Come. I’ll protect you._

The dragon arrived in just a few moments, crunching loudly on something. Avexis watched it disappear down her gullet, amused.  _Don’t worry. I didn’t eat your nug friend._

_Ambassador Littlefoot is already heading to Skyhold,to prepare for his removal to Val Royeaux. Josie will see him take Orlais by storm._

_Ugh, Orlesians. So fond of mounting heads on walls._ The dragon settled herself, so that her eyes were more on Avexis’ level, glowing in the dim light.  _Your mate is here. But not here with you.  Why not?_

_He’s been ill He’s weak and needs his rest._

_Time to get another mate, then._

_It… doesn’t work that way, Vinsomer._

_You mate for life?! How impractical._

_Sigrid would agree, I imagine._ Avexis settled herself more comfortably, wrapping the blanket tighter around herself. _And we are not mated permanently._

_Don’t lie to me. I can see you have no intention of finding another.  You’re just going to let yourself waste away after he goes._

_He’s in no immediate danger. He could live for decades now.  As could I.  With luck, we might even see the end of the age._

_Might as well be a blink of an eye._

Their perspectives were so different, it was hard to comprehend. _We’re a good match, that way._

_I suppose._ Vinsomer’s eyes shifted.  _You have an audience. They’re hoping you’ll change and fly off with me.  This is how rumors begin._

_It’s tempting, but no._ Avexis sighed.  _I have things to do here. I’m leaving for Kirkwall tomorrow, by way of Amaranthine._

_Across the Sea?_ The dragon blew smoke through her nostrils, smelling strongly of ozone.  _It’s a nice flight. Stay away from mines and quarries. I had a cousin there – her offspring are tenacious._

_I will._ Avexis lifted her hand and touched the dragon gently. _Can you tell if Cullen sleeps?_

_Don’t ask silly questions. Minds are all alike, except yours.  I recognized him, is all, when I heard you coming.  An echo from the way you hear him._ The dragon nudged her hand deliberately.  _Bring him to me, before you leave? I want to meet this male who can hold your interest.  Decide for myself if he’s worthy.  If he’s not, I’ll eat him._

_He’s never killed a dragon._

_What does that have to do with anything? You have, and it doesn’t bother me in the least.  It’s called survival of the fittest, little one._ Vinsomer straightened, shook her wings and yawned, teeth gaping sharp and wide.  Behind her, Avexis heard curses, and shifting rock.  _Your people are so easy to scare. Bring him to meet me.  Or I’ll come to him, if he’s so unwell._

_That would be best._

_Good. I’ll stay awake then.  Call me, and I’ll come._ She unfurled her wings and launched, winging away towards her island. 

“Maker.” 

Avexis turned back towards the nightwatchman with a smile. “That was Vinsomer.  She was happy to make your acquaintance.” 

“Charmed, I’m sure.” The scouts’ eyes were wide.

“Enchantee,” the other muttered, backing away. “She will stay away, non?” 

“Until I call her back.” Avexis allowed her eyes to twinkle.  “She wants to meet the Commander.” 

“Andraste’s fire,” the first whispered. “Meeting the family?  Better him than me.” 

“And I thought my Mother in law was a dragon…” the other murmured. 

“Quite.” She turned back towards her tent.  “I’m going up the hill to visit with the Healers.  Send a runner if I’m needed – but you might as well start breaking camp.”  The sun was rising now, bright and warmish, for the Coast.  “We shouldn’t keep the Viscount waiting longer than necessary.” 

“Aye, Inquisitor.” 

The walk up the hill was as long as Avexis remembered – steep and difficult, despite muscles that were used to uneven terrain, and cold, considering that the way lay in shadow. She crested the hill at the same time as the sun and stopped to close her eyes and welcome the day’s warmth on her face once again. 

“You’re up early,” Bethany’s voice broke into her thoughts, and Avexis opened her eyes. 

“I had trouble sleeping.” 

“Hmmm, I’ll have a thought about what to do about that,” Bethany eyed her professionally. “I couldn’t risk his health in the damp.  He’s only at about 70%.  If that.” 

“I’ll be gentle,” Avexis smiled, wistfully. “Is he still sleeping?” 

“Him?” Bethany snorted. “He never sleeps.  He’s been up and grousing about paperwork since before dawn.”  She lifted the bucket of water she had been hauling.  “Come inside.  Break your fast with us.  It’s just porridge, but there’s plenty of honey to sweeten it.” 

“It sounds wonderful,” Avexis admitted, and finished her climb. 

“I remember my sister’s trip,” Bethany stared down. “She nearly starved after that jackass left her behind to die.  You don’t look much better.”  She jerked her head towards her door.  “Get the door for me?” 

Avexis pulled it open, to the sound of a potent curse and coughing. “Anders, you complete arse.  That was not the normal potion…” 

“It is the same, just imbued with a bit of a stamina boost,” the healer grinned at his patient’s grimace. “Don’t worry, no lyrium, Templar.  You’ll need it, if you’re going to insist on leaving today.” 

“I’m not a Temp-“ 

“And we’re definitely leaving today, as soon as we say our farewells,” Avexis broke in. Cullen jumped at her voice from where he sat at the roughhewn table, papers scattered around, shirtless.  “…Commander.”  She stared at his chest, every rib easy to define, but the remnants of the muscles still there. 

“Inquisitor,” his voice was crisp, but he flushed. “Um, let me…” he rose, and made his way to his bag.  “Sorry.  I forgot… I guess I’ve made myself too much at home.” 

“I was enjoying the view,” Anders quipped. “Shame…” he murmured as the chest disappeared.  “There are precious few things about the Circle I missed – and half-dressed Templars are one of them.”  Bethany snickered, as if she agreed, and moved closer to the fire.

Cullen snarled, but flushed deeper. “Are the troops breaking camp?  I could assist…” he half rose from his chair. 

“That’s not necessary, but yes, as we speak,” Avexis confirmed. She twisted her hands awkwardly in her robes.  “I’ve been asked to breakfast?” 

Anders choked, “Give me a little warning, Bethy! There might not be enough…” 

“Nonsense, you make enough to feed ten Wardens,” his wife cracked back. “You can rein in that monstrous appetite for once.  Have a seat, Avexis.” 

Avexis pulled up a chair, listening to the couple bicker, and picked up a few of Cullen’s loose documents. He grabbed them out of her hands, “You don’t need to see those.” 

It looked like… a design. “What is this?” 

“It’s nothing.” He ordered, stuffing them back in his saddlebag.  “Will I be allowed to ride today, Bethany?” 

“What makes you think you’re capable of keeping your balance on a horse?” The healer shot back, stirring, and swatting at her husband who was hovering with a jar of spices.  “It’s perfect, Anders.  Quit trying to add more cinnamon.  There’s plenty.” 

“Maybe for a Fereldan palette,” sneered Anders. “Some of us like our food to taste like something other than ‘grey’.” 

“Hmmm,” Bethany elbowed him. “I’m going to ignore that.”  He kissed the back of her neck and she giggled and relented.  “All right then, go on.  But just a pinch more.  Keep it edible.” 

“Yes’m.” 

Avexis caught Cullen’s flush, and his eye. “Can I do anything?” 

“You?” Bethany blinked, surprised.  “Um… if you wanted to pour tea…” she nodded towards the kettle.  “Leaves on the shelf next to the mugs.” 

Avexis rose, and gathered them, measuring them out deftly and watching them uncurl in the steaming water. She set one at each side of the table, and then, without asking, grabbed the bowls from the same shelf, and the wide wooden spoons from the adjoining jug.  Cullen watched, rueful.  “I would help, but I’ve been forbidden to move from this chair until we’re ready to leave, upon pain of force magic.” 

Avexis colored, remembering the chapel, “Sounds like Bethany. That Healer has a few tricks not everyone knows about.” 

“You’re both safe from me,” the woman called out, “As long as you obey. Anders, fetch the bread I baked yesterday.  And the cheese.  No point bringing those with us – they’ll never last in this wet.” 

Avexis slid into her chair, after trying in vain to find something else to help with. But the honeypot was already in the middle of the table, along with a pitcher of cream.  Her mouth watered.  “Milk?  Where did you buy milk here?” 

“Oh, we ran into a merchant yesterday, down by the new Port,” Anders’ eyes were distant as he tasted the porridge. “Local dairy farmer – now that the dragon is accounted for, he wants to expand here.  Says the valleys nearby are perfect for grazing, if someone keeps the bears down.  And I know the spells the Circle used to keep their stores fresh.  Works a treat.”  Bethany handed him a bowl and he ladled a healthy portion in, and she distributed it to Cullen. 

“Eat,” she ordered, and Cullen, mouth twisting in presumed protest at the order, poured some cream and drizzled some honey in and took a bite. 

“It’s good,” he grunted. 

“Eat all of it, then. You’ve got a full stone that you need to put back on.” 

Cullen flushed red again, and silent, kept eating, as Bethany set Avexis’ bowl in front of her. “You too,” she whispered.  “You’re going to need the energy.  Big day ahead of you.  And you could use some color.” 

“Is she always like this?” Avexis asked Anders. 

“Yes. You should have seen her argue with Justice about keeping my body healthy when he didn’t want to let me stop working to eat.”  Anders fidgeted, but took his place, Bethany close behind.  “She’s got a feeding people thing.” 

“Comes of not having enough for years, in Kirkwall.” She sighed, making a face.  “It’s too spicy, Anders!” 

“You can’t even taste it!” 

She shook her head at him, and they ate in silence for a few minutes, before Avexis broke in. “So… can I have permission to drag my Commander away from the fire to… meet a friend, for a few minutes this morning?” 

“A friend?” Bethany narrowed her eyes.  “I suppose.  As long as he doesn’t have to climb back up the hill.” 

“She’ll come where I ask her to,” Avexis hoped she was right. 

“She?” Cullen’s eyes brightened with interest.  “Vinsomer wants to meet me?” 

“Maybe?” 

Anders shuddered. “I hope you don’t expect me to go along.  I’ve had my fill of fighting monsters bigger than a breadbox.” 

“He can do without you for a few minutes, assuming Avexis is with him,” Bethany agreed. “But you’d better wear your sweater and scarf, Commander.” 

“Maker preserve me,” Cullen groaned. “The troops will see me, Bethany…” 

“Authority does no good if you’re dead. Staying warm is better than saving your pride!” 

“You’ve been wearing them?!” Avexis beamed.  “I wasn’t sure…” 

“They’re lovely,” Cullen grumbled. “Very warm.” 

“Good,” Avexis risked touching his hip, and shocked him. Cullen’s eyes dilated and locked with hers. 

“Hmmm,” Anders joked, “The air seems rather… charged in here, doesn’t it, love?” 

Bethany groaned. “None of that, either of you.  The Commander is in no shape for…” 

“None of that,” Cullen half-smiled at Avexis, his tone unconvincing. 

“How long?” She asked bluntly. 

“I can’t say,” Bethany pressed her lips together. “The humors…” 

“Nonsense,” Anders mumbled around his spoon. “The man could use a little gentle exercise.” 

“Can we not talk about this at the breakfast table?” Cullen protested. 

“Where else?” Anders waved his hand around the small house.  “I’m not going to drag you into our workroom just to talk about your limitations.  Especially when your lover is right here and should be involved in the discussion.  Our breakfast table is no stranger to sex anyway… it won’t blush over a few words…” 

Bethany shoved her husband, gasping with laughter. “Anders!  They don’t need to know…” 

“Oh, come on. You heard the rumors about the Commander’s desk, didn’t you?  You don’t think we were the first ones to use the nearest flat surface?  Do I need to refresh your memory?” 

Avexis choked on her tea and sputtering, pressed her napkin to her lips. Cullen smirked, smug and satisfied, and kept eating with a level of single-mindedness she could only admire. 

Bethany glared. “Light exercise is a walk in warm, fresh air.  No… intercourse.” 

“Can he touch her?” Anders challenged. 

“Anders.” 

“Can he kiss her? How about with tongue?”  Anders’ eyes twinkled. 

“Anders…” 

“Can he get her off without…” 

“ANDERS!” 

“I’m done,” Cullen announced, and rose, to carry his bowl to the waiting cauldron of hot water, dropping it in gently. 

“Moi, aussi,” Avexis shoveled the last bite in, and dropped her own bowl in, splashing the overflow into the fire and making it hiss, much like her voice in an aside to Cullen. “I think your hosts could use some privacy.  I think Anders, um… il a le feu au cul?” 

Cullen frowned, “That doesn’t translate. ‘His ass is on fire?’”  He flushed bright red in an instant.  “Oh.  Oh, I see.”  He grabbed his sweater off the hook by the door, and struggled into it, effectively hiding his embarrassment. 

“Finally someone takes the hint!” Anders lifted his hands in the air.  “Thanks to the constant company, and all the overwork, I haven’t had sex in…” 

“ANDERS!” Bethany had turned an alarming color of fuchsia.  “Please!” 

“The begging comes later, love.” 

Avexis left the house as quickly as she could manage after that, shutting the door, and watching Cullen wrap his scarf over his nose and mouth inexpertly. “Let me,” she laughed, and took the end from him.  Cullen dropped his hands to her hips and let her reach up and around, draping his mouth and folding it gently in the back, tucked into the fuzzy collar of his coat.  “There.  That’s better, non?” 

“Now I can’t kiss you.” 

“You heard the healer.” 

“She never gave a straight answer about the… details.” He kicked a rock.  “I thought I’d be able to sneak a few kisses in, at least.”  His eyes were warm, squinting wickedly over the fuzzy fabric. 

“I take it you’re on Anders’ side?” 

“It’s been months since I’ve seen you, woman.” Avexis colored at the endearment.  He leaned his forehead against hers, hands shaking.  “I would do far more than Anders hinted at, if…” 

Avexis shook her head. “I thought you were dead, Cullen.  I won’t risk your health to have a – comment dit-on… ‘quickie’?”  She sighed.  “I was supposed to call Vinsomer to the beach, but… I think I’ll ask if she minds meeting us here.” 

“I’m not going to break during a little walk.” 

“But I might.” Her voice cracked. “You don’t know what it was like, Cullen.  No one told me anything.  I was fighting, for so long… the only thing that kept me going was knowing if I stopped the earthquakes I could come home.  To you.  Who might have been dead.” 

Cullen’s eyes were soft above his scarf. “Avexis…”  She shook her head. 

“You have no idea how much I worried.” To distract herself, Avexis faced the dragon’s island, and called. 

A moment later, a dragon appeared through the mists, twisting lazily just a dragon’s length above the surf. Below them they heard the camp shout in surprise, and Avexis rolled her eyes.  “Ignore them,” she ordered both Cullen and Vinsomer. 

_I usually do unless they throw something at me._

Cullen chuckled, eyes wide. “Amazing.”  He stared as the dragon landed, with remarkable precision, on the other side of the house, where there was a large enough clearing to accommodate her.  Slowly, they made their way around the structure.  “So… this is Vinsomer?”  Cullen bowed, lower than he had for the Empress of Orlais.  “My pleasure, milady.” 

_Well, he’s polite, if sickly._

“He’s only a little ill,” Avexis corrected. 

“I got better!” 

_What is that fuzzy sheep-smelling thing around his muzzle?_

“It’s a scarf!” 

Cullen chuckled. “Tell her I don’t want to wear it like this either.  But I’m under orders.” 

“She can understand you.” 

“Oh.” Cullen blinked.  “I’m glad I was polite.” 

_Hmm, polite for your kind, anyway._ Vinsomer settled, still staring.  _I don’t see what the attraction is. He’s not overly large.  His rump isn’t high.  No tail to speak of.  No horns…_

Avexis giggled. “I beg your pardon?”  Cullen huffed.  “What’s she saying?” 

“His rump is perfect! And he does too have a horn!”  Avexis stopped.  “Of a sort, anyway.” 

Cullen coughed. “Oh.  Um.  I have a… fine horn, I’m told.  No complaints, in any case...” 

_His color is unusual, I suppose._ Vinsomer’s tone was grudging.  _I suppose the novelty of a pale mate is something. Though you are too pale, when you’re in this form.  Your offspring would look like snow._

Avexis hummed noncommittally. “You know we aren’t talking about that.” 

“About what?” 

“Offspring.” Avexis hissed before thinking. “I mean…” 

But Cullen’s eyes narrowed. “I see.” 

“She just doesn’t see the point of mating without…” 

“She doesn’t understand companionship?” 

_We’ve had this conversation. Do all humans feel the need to justify their sexual appetites?_

“I suppose some of us do.” 

“What did she say now?” 

“That humans need to justify wanting sex.” 

“You’re not human. And I don’t need to justify anything!”  Cullen blustered, shoulders squaring, and clawing away at the scarf to free his mouth to argue.  “See here, Vinsomer, I adore this woman.  I would do anything to keep her safe, and happy, and… and I don’t care if children ever arrive, as long as she’s beside me.”  His face was red under the fabric.  “That’s not the point.” 

Avexis shoved her alarm to one side. “Cullen, you don’t need to defend me.” 

The dragon snorted, and rose, clacking her tongue at them. _I understand more than you think. He’ll do.  I hope you both live many seasons, and always have enough to eat.  And that your offspring are strong._

_What changed?_ Avexis asked, bewildered, backing up involuntarily to meet her eyes again. 

Cullen’s hand went to his waist, fumbling for a sword that wasn’t there. Avexis stopped him.  “She’s not attacking.  She’s… leaving.” 

“What? Why?”  His hand dropped to his side. 

_Because he’s protective. A good drake, a good mate, is protective – at least until the eggs are hatched._ The dragon unfurled her wings, wide enough to catch the wind.  _He will do his jobs well. Come home soon, little one.  Bring your offspring when you have them._

_There won’t be any offspring. We’re different species. It’s not that simple._

_Simpler than you think, I imagine. Back up.  I’m taking off, and I don’t want you caught in my backdraft._ The dragon flapped her powerful wings, and launched, with effort, into the sky, with a final screech. 

Avexis stood, buffeted by the dragon’s wind as she flew back towards her island. “She says you’re dedicated.  She likes you.  I think.”  She half-translated at last, turning back and twisting the scarf back around his mouth and nose. 

“My family would be easier,” Cullen grumbled, but allowed her to finish. “Even Mia wouldn’t challenge you like that.” 

“That’s what you think,” Avexis half-laughed, thinking of the woman’s letter. “Come on, let’s get your things packed.  I want to get on our way, as soon as possible.” 

“They’ve been packed since yesterday.” He pulled her a little closer.  “And we can’t go back in there, in any case.  Give them a little more time, Ladybird.”  He leaned against her forehead.  “Your barriers aren’t good enough to stand up to Bethany Force-slamming the door on us.” 

Avexis tugged down his scarf to kiss him, sweet and chaste, and then tugged it right back up. “Then we wait outside.  No hill for the Commander until it is time to go.”


	22. Bad Smells, Good Hosts, and Resisting Temptation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we go - maybe we'll actually be on a regular posting schedule again now. That would be fun... and I've had my fill of family tragedies forever.

Trying to be alone together became something of a farce. The Inquisition, eager to make use of their Commander while he was out in the field – however hobbled – and their Inquisitor, once again above ground and accessible, was indeed a force to be reckoned with. 

The trip to Amaranthine was short anyway, and the one night they spent on the road Cullen was herded towards the only available inn room, while Avexis camped with the troops. 

The situation was maddening. Every second they seemed to have together ended in being separated by duties, by people, by Makerbedamned healers… by the time they boarded the ship Cullen was snapping even at Bethany. 

And there was no chance to talk privately on board the vessel. It was crowded with paying passengers heading to warmer climates for Wintersend. 

Wintersend. Cullen touched his bag, wherein lay various projects of things he couldn’t even take out, lest Avexis stumble across them.  He had plans – Dorian was hoping to be able to rejoin them during their stay and had solemnly promised his assistance with jewelry as well as with the rifts.  If he could depend upon the mage to actually arrive promptly, his plans would finally be underway.  It wasn’t like Kirkwall was that far from Tevinter… 

He hadn’t mentioned the possibility of Dorian’s presence to Avexis. He didn’t want to see her disappointment if it didn’t work out.  

Instead of studying, as he had solemnly promised Josephine he would, or hashing out his half-baked plans, he stood with her at the back of the ship – the aft, the captain had explained to him dryly – watching the wake of the vessel and trying not to feel ill. 

The seasickness was greatly improved this time around. Possibly the lyrium withdrawal had made it worse – but he still felt far better out in the open air, with a horizon he could stare at.  On the good days there were islands that made him feel like he might be able to swim for it if the worst happened. 

Avexis had laughed at him. “At least one of us can swim.  I’d sink like a stone.” 

“We really ought to teach you,” he grinned at her. 

“Oh, yes, let’s just jump overboard right now and get that over with,” she snorted. “It looks cold, Cullen.  It’s not even Cloudreach!” 

“I wasn’t suggesting here…” he began, intending to bring up another trip to the hot springs when he was interrupted – for the dozenth time – by soldiers requesting his signature on something or other for the latest raven’s departure. Followed immediately by Bethany adjusting his scarf to fit over his mouth and nose, only for him to tug it away with a scowl as soon as her back was turned. 

“You should listen to your healer.” Avexis had that little line between her eyes that always made him want to kiss it away.  “She wants you to get better.” 

“Bethany’s not a healer. She’s a demon in healer form, and Anders is her thrall,” he’d contradicted, trying to change the subject before she could start nagging him to take better care of himself. 

Two seconds later, the scarf was back over his mouth and nose, this time with her wielding the fabric. “Listen. To. Your. Healer.”  She scolded. 

It was easier to take from her than Bethany. And he knew exactly why, as she stood just a little too close for propriety.  Close enough to feel her body heat through his layers of coat and sweater. 

But at last, they landed in Kirkwall, and Cullen immediately stripped off the scarf only to gag at the dock’s smell. “Maker, I’d forgotten how much the docks stink.”  He wrapped himself back up.  “Remind me to buy mint extract if we’re going to spend much time here.” 

“It is a bit fouler than I remembered,” Bethany looked around her, content. “But it’s almost good to be back.  Where is every-” 

“Sunshine!” Varric bounded down the stairs and threw his arms around her waist, nodding to her husband.  “Blondie.” 

“Varric,” Anders sighed, and looked around. “Same dump as ever, I see.” 

“Well, it wouldn’t be Kirkwall without the stench.” Varric shrugged.  “I’m working on it, but you’d be surprised how hard it is to get someone to walk around the sewers here.  I can’t even get a quote.  Seems like most of the specialists in the Free Marches would just rather we all die off already.” 

Avexis gagged a little, a handkerchief pressed to her mouth and nose. “Where are we staying?” 

“Hightown, of course. At the Keep.  With me.  Don’t worry, it smells a little better up that way.”  He winked at Cullen.  “Couldn’t send the Commander or the Inquisitor to the Hanged Man or Blooming Rose, after all.” 

“Blooming Rose?” Avexis asked, under her breath. 

“Um… that would be the brothel.” Cullen cleared his throat.  “Popular with… those of the Order.  And nobles. Naturally.” 

Avexis raised a single eyebrow. “I see.” 

“I doubt it,” Anders mumbled, before his wife could elbow him. “What?  You know we found him in there…” 

“I wasn’t a patron!” Cullen protested.  “I was looking for missing Templars – and Hawke found out I was right to be suspicious.  It was only Templars that came here that disappeared.  When she found me, I was trying to get up my…” 

“You were trying to get something up, all right,” Bull mumbled, and Blackwall chuckled. 

Avexis’ shoulders relaxed. “On ne sais jamais.” 

It took him a moment to remember that phrase. “’One never knows?’  You should already know, I told you… but nevermind,” he sighed, realizing that Varric’s fingers were twitching for a pen.  “How is the Gallows?” 

“Dull and largely empty. For once.”  Varric led the way away from the docks.  “Sunshine, Hawke was so sorry she couldn’t make it – Spud has colic, and she wanted to spare you the screaming.” 

“I’ll just run up and see her, then,” Bethany clutched her bag a little tighter. “I remember the way.  Maybe she can get a nap.  Will you have my boxes sent to the estate, Varric?” 

“Already done. She’ll love you forever, Sunshine,” Varric grinned and rubbed his eyes.  “She and Fenris aren’t getting a lot of shuteye these days.  We’re all pitching in, but… I do have a city to run.  Such as it is.”  His derogatory comments were clear lies in his pride. 

Anders moved to follow her, and Bethany tilted her head back at Cullen. Both men groaned in unison.  “What?  Now I have to be a Templar’s keeper?  He’s fine, Bethany!  I don’t want to be the third wheel!  She’s my niece, too!” 

The woman hesitated, and then shrugged. “All right.  I suppose I shouldn’t go through Lowtown on my own anyway.”  She side-eyed Cullen, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.  You know what that means, Commander.” 

“Just between the three of us, that doesn’t leave much,” Anders snickered. “Have fun, you two.” 

“So… you’ve never been to Kirkwall, Ladybird!” Varric began again after the two pulled away in the direction of the Hawke manor.  “You either, right, Sigrid?” 

“I’ve never been anywhere,” Sigrid’s eyes were huge and her nose wrinkled. “It stinks.  Amaranthine didn’t stink.  I’ve never seen such an ugly place.” 

“That’s Kirkwall for you,” Varric gazed around proudly. “Bull?  What about you?” 

“Nope. Wasn’t with the Arishok’s troops.  Already in Orlais by the time he showed.”  Bull’s neck craned.  “See his point though.  It’s a mess.” 

“Better than it was,” Cullen muttered, and rubbed the back of his neck. Avexis took his other hand, and he smiled at her, wrapping his fingers tighter, and rubbing his thumb against her palm in an attempt to reassure her. 

“Crime’s down, now that I’ve given Aveline a long leash.” Varric looked over his shoulder at them, eyes twinkling, “Mind you, don’t tell her I said that.  It’s a fine balance, making her think she’s not getting everything she wants.” 

“Letting her get on with it is the best thing to do,” Cullen agreed. “She’s amazingly competent.” 

“You worked with her, after…” Avexis prompted under her breath. 

“Yes,” Cullen hesitated. “I – haven’t told you much about that time.” 

“Save it,” Avexis advised, curt. “I’m sure Varric doesn’t need the reminder about how bad it got.” 

Neither did he. “True enough.”  They finished their walk in mostly quiet, Varric pointing out a few points of interest, improvements he’d made, the beginning of the new Chantry, and the way to the rifts that would need to be sealed, starting in the morning.  When they reached the Keep, they were delivered into the hands of the housekeeper.  “Now, Naomi will see you to your room.”  Varric rocked on his heels.  “I’ve got people to see, I’m sorry to say.  I’ll see you at breakfast tomorrow.” 

“Room?” Avexis blinked.  “We’re staying… together?”  Cullen tightened his fingers on hers. 

“Are you or aren’t you two…” Varric shifted his gaze between them. “Oh.  Well, then, I’ll just…” 

“It’s fine,” Cullen interjected. “We’ll be… fine.”  His hand tightened harder yet.  “Just don’t tell Bethany about the sleeping arrangements.” 

“My lips are sealed,” Varric’s mouth twisted, “I would have thought that nonsense would have been over by now.” 

“Josie.” Avexis supplied at the same time as Cullen started. 

“Bethany. I’ve been ill.” 

“Ah,” Varric shook his head, confused. “Well, whatever, Ladybird, Curly.  You’ll find Kirkwall doesn’t really care who you sleep with, as long as the markets open in the morning, the Qun doesn’t invade, and blood mages don’t try to blow all of us up.”  He waved them off, and the small group trailed after the housekeeper. 

“Bull, can I stay with you?” Cole asked, timid. 

“’Course, big guy,” Bull answered. 

“Good, because Thom and Sigrid would like a bed as soon as possible.” 

“You shouldn’t just shout it out like that,” Bull chided. “Some people get weird about sex.” 

“It’s okay,” Cole patted his arm as the housekeeper waved them towards a suite. “Dorian doesn’t really mind.  He likes to feel like he belongs with you, even when he’s shy.” 

“Good to know.” Cole followed Bull into a big room with high ceilings, and a bed without a canopy to get his horns tangled in.  “Nice.” 

Sigrid and Thom were next – deposited in a pleasant room with a very large bed – and Avexis and Cullen were left to follow the housekeeper, oddly embarrassed at sharing a room publicly. Cullen rubbed the back of his neck again, and Avexis hugged her bag to her chest.  “Do you think we’ll see Aveline while we’re here?”  Avexis finally asked.  “I wanted to thank her for the defense of the city, when Starkhaven attacked.”

“I know where her office is,” Cullen admitted. “We’ll make a point to find her tomorrow.” 

The housekeeper waved them in, beamed and promised them a hearty dinner, and they slipped inside, to find a fourposter bed, feather pillows, and roaring fire waiting. Laughing, Avexis ripped off her boots, and walked, hips swinging, towards the bed, burying herself in a pillow face-first, her words muffled into the feathers. 

Cullen set his own bags down just outside the wardrobe and shrugged out of his coat. “What was that, Ladybird?”

Her face emerged, rosy, “It’s so soft,” she clarified. “It’s like a cloud, after the Deep Roads, and tents, and the ship berths. I think I may go right to sleep.  Would it be horribly rude to miss dinner?” 

“Dreadfully,” Cullen smirked. “But as I’ll miss it with you…”  He pulled his own boots off and wriggled his toes into the thick hearthrug.  “I’m exhausted.”

“Get over here, then,” Avexis dared him. 

“You know Bethany said…” 

“I’m capable of being in the same room with you without jumping you, Cullen,” she rolled her eyes. “No one is that irresistible.  Even you.” 

He chuckled, thinking that she just might be, but made his way to the bed. “I don’t particularly like soft beds.” 

“You’ll hate this one, then,” Avexis rolled over onto her back. “I’m sinking deeper in, with every movement.” 

Cullen settled next to her, turning on his side to watch her sink her way into down-filled comfort. “Don’t you want a real bath, Inquisitor?” 

“Oui,” the word was muffled. “But bed.  But hot water, and soap… I cannot decide.”  She peeked above the pouf of fabric.  “Decide for me?” 

He risked touching her, winding a strand of her hair around his finger and letting it slide off. “You might sleep better clean.” 

She groaned and rolled over. “Too much work.” 

“We’re here to work.” 

“I should get my sleep then.” 

“Lazy Ladybird.” 

Avexis frowned at him and sat up. “You’re right.  Bath.  And I’ll make an appearance at dinner.  And…” 

“I didn’t mean…” 

She pressed her lips together before relaxing. “It would be nice to be lazy.  Just once.  It’s been…” her words trailed off.  “It’s been a long time.  Pre-tranquility.” 

Cullen sighed. “Sounds like we need to plan you a break.”

Avexis’ smile took him unaware. “Vraiment?  Could we?”

“After the rifts, why not? Stop the demons, and I think we could arrange a whole day of idleness.”  She threw herself on top of him, and he was knocked over, down flying. “Maybe two, if you’re a very good girl.” 

“Merci, Cullen.” She said the words to his neck. 

He rubbed her back. “The least I can do.”  He chuckled, “I thought you could resist my charms?”

She shoved at him and he let her go. “I can.”  Her nose tilted up in unconscious imitation of Cassandra.  “Watch me.”

 


	23. Guards, Rifts and Racism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wow, a chapter post on Monday two weeks running! Maybe things really will get back to normal.
> 
> I know 'normal is relative'. But I'm getting there.

Aveline was stiff with manners, but just as Fereldan as Cullen remembered her, eyeing Avexis cautiously before extending her hand. “You’re the Inquisitor.  Never thought I’d meet you.”  He could see the callouses when she pulled her hand back and came out from behind her neat stacks of scrolls and letters.  “You’re shorter than I thought you’d be, from the descriptions.” 

“Guard Captain,” Avexis seemed nervous, now that she was here. “Thank you for your defense of Kirkwall.” 

“Couldn’t have done it, without the Commander’s troops.” Cullen nodded crisply in acknowledgement.  “My Guards are always stretched thin.  Especially with the Templars all but gone.” 

“It sounds like you need to recruit.” 

Aveline barked a short laugh. “I always need people.  But I’m pickier than most.  I won’t hire just anyone who shows up with a short sword.” 

“About the Templars,” Avexis hesitated. She hadn’t spoken to Cullen about her thoughts on the subject.  “If… the Inquisition had Templars who no longer wanted to remain with the Chantry, would you have a place for them?  Work for them to do? We’d have to figure out how to provide them with lyrium, but…” 

Cullen twitched. Aveline’s eyes went round.  “Do you have… are you serious?”

“They might not want to come to Kirkwall,” Avexis admitted. “It’s just an idea.  But Hawke informed me your first husband was a Templar, so I thought, maybe…” 

“If they were the right people,” Aveline admitted, rather slowly. “I wouldn’t have to show them which way to hold a sword.  But… their vows to the Maker…” 

Avexis raised her chin. “If my suspicions are correct, the Chantry will look very different when they elect a new Divine.  With the Order all but dissolved, it would hardly be breaking a promise.” 

“Is it the Left Hand for sure, then?” Aveline frowned, disapproving.  “I don’t know about that.  Hawke’s run-ins with her weren’t exactly… reassuring.  That Seeker had her faults, but at least she’s direct.  She’s no Orlesian.”                                                                                   

“The Mothers don’t share their votes with me,” Avexis said, gently. Inwardly, her mind was racing.  Was there a chance that Cassandra wouldn’t be elected?  She couldn’t even look at Cullen, unsure of where she stood. 

“Huh.” Aveline’s mouth twitched.  “If you have any interested, I’d try them.  No one that was posted here before, though.  I don’t want that kind of contamination in my ranks – too easy to fall back into bad habits.  Other Marchers are welcome, though.”  She sniffed, “I’d even try a chevalier, or two, if they can drop the poncy masks.  None of that nonsense, please.” 

“Merci,” Avexis smiled, trying to be formal. “I will inform my Ambassador.” 

“At least they’d have something worth doing.” Aveline’s attention was suddenly drawn to a shield on her wall with the outline of the Sword of Mercy.  “Wesley would have liked that.” 

Cullen remained silent during the rest of the conversation, and their trip outside, to where the first rift needed to be closed. “You disapprove,” Avexis said finally. 

“The Veil is perhaps thinner in Kirkwall than any place in Thedas.” 

“So, it makes more sense for a Templar presence there, n’est-ce pas? Without a Circle.” 

“I… suppose.” His forehead creased.  “Perhaps I’m projecting.  It was… not easy to come back.  I wouldn’t want any of my people to experience…” 

“Cullen, with few mages in Kirkwall, they wouldn’t be dealing with magical crimes.” Avexis spun on her heel, facing him down.  “They’ll be dealing with mundane lawbreakers.  Merchants cheating customers.  Theft.  Maybe the occasional demon – which according to Ameridan’s Templar companion is what they were meant to defend against in the first place.  Not mages.” 

“Murders,” Cullen drawled. “What a nice break from maleficar and abominations.”  He stared up at the sky, where the scar from the Breach could just barely be seen, before turning back to her, his thoughts unknown from his expression.  “You’re right, Ladybird.  The Inquisition won’t last forever.  It can’t.”  He hesitated but pressed on.  “Perhaps it shouldn’t.” 

“Why is that?” Avexis challenged. 

“You know why,” her lover shook his head. “We’re a force to be reckoned with.  To Ferelden, we’re Orlesian, with an Orlesian Inquisitor.  To Orlais, we’re an independent army, led by a mage-sympathetic elf.”  He gestured to a group of staring middle-aged women, faces lined with scarcely disguised fear.  “To Kirkwall, we’re just another set of possible invaders – even if we’re not the Qun, or Starkhaven, or Tevinter.  To most elves we’ve propped up an Empress who slaughtered an entire alienage.”  His shoulders bowed.  “We can’t maintain neutrality indefinitely, especially financially.  Josie will be the first to tell you that coin begins to run short.” 

“Tres bien,” Avexis smiled widely at him. “That’s exactly what I think.” 

Cullen looked at her, confused. “What are you going to…”

Avexis shrugged, “Wait and see. I think I have a little time, at least.  I want to think before I act.  I… I think I’ll know when something must be done.”  She glanced at him sideways.  “And I need to figure out what happens to me – I mean, what I’m going to do next.”  She laughed, just a little.  “And I need to quit assuming that the rest of the world has more control over my life than I do.” 

Cullen blinked and smiled. “That sounds like the beginnings of a plan, Ladybird.” 

She snorted, “It’s about as far away from a ‘plan’ as it can get. But I’m trying.”  She swayed towards him, nudging him with her hip.  “I promised.” 

They made their way to the rift, guarded by two Inquisitions soldiers and fenced off. “This is ridiculous,” Avexis frowned at the mark in her hand.  “And painful.”  It sparked and sputtered in her palm.  “More than usual, I think.” 

“A product of the thin Veil?” Varric piped up. 

“I… don’t know. It’s felt different since Corypheus,” Avexis admitted. 

“Since he left,” Cole breathed, nearly inaudible. Avexis slanted her eyes at him, but he didn’t continue. 

“Let’s just get it over with,” Bull hefted his axe up. “There’s five near the city, right?  One a day…” 

“This is the largest,” Varric confirmed. “It’s still going crazy every so often, too.” 

Sigrid’s eyes were wide, “The gods truly have gone mad here,” she whispered, and cast a barrier. “So much despair.” 

It was true, with Avexis’ approach, at least six despair demons had morphed from the faded wisps that were haunting the area before. 

“It’s probably because it’s so close to the alienage,” Varric admitted. “I’m trying, but… there’s only so much I’ve been able to do.  They have their pride, even with Daisy offering… and their fear. I can’t do anything about either.” 

“I’d like to meet her,” Avexis pursed her lips, and then unslung her staff, but instead of using it, handed it to Cole. “Cole, I want you to stay here.  I… I think that I’ll try something.  But I’ll need both hands.”  She gathered her mana around her.  “Bull, I want you and Thom to keep your Guard.  Sigrid, barriers.”  Her hair rose, stray hairs drifting out from her tight braid, sparking around the edges.  “I’m aiming to stun, and that means lightning.  Stay out of the glyphs!” 

Cullen began to draw his sword, but she narrowed her eyes. “You’re staying here, Cullen.  I’m not getting crushed by Bethany if you overdo it.” 

“I’m fine,” he protested. 

“Don’t even start,” she ordered. “Besides you’re wearing plate. If I lose track of where you are, you get hit. I know that I call you Hot Templar, but that’s not the kind of hot I like.” Then, fingers sparkling, she threw her head back and Fade-stepped to the other side of the courtyard, pressing both hands to the floor. Glyphs glowed, and she winked out and back into reality diagonally, effectively fencing in the demons.  She rose, and then her mark sparked, and an arching dome of magic descended around her and her opponents.  She cast again, throwing a chain of lightning at the nearest.  It shrieked, bending backwards in pain and protest, sparking dangerously as the magic stunned and froze them in place.  “NOW!”  She yelled, and Bull rushed in, Sigrid’s protective layers in place. 

Bull hacked at the nearest, and with another screech it darted to the edges of Avexis’ confinement, and escaped, only to be hit with grounding electricity between the dome and the stone beneath their floating forms. “It’s working, Boss!” 

“Good,” Avexis panted, and held out her hand. Cole threw her staff towards her and she caught it, effortlessly, whirling it around her body like a baton in a parade.  She planted it before her, and another round of energy spouted towards the creature in front of her. 

It dissolved, melting back into the Fade. 

Avexis raised her hand and the rift reacted. Only Cullen saw her wince and plant her feet against the pain.  It snapped at her, and she snarled at it, now glowing with eldritch light, wisps floating around waiting for her commands.  She snapped her hands together, and directed her staff at the remaining enemies, and they attacked. 

He’d never seen anything like it. She looked impossible, godlike, lit up with white light so bright he swore he could see the outline of her bones under her still-too-thin frame. 

The last opponent disappeared, and she, shaking, held out her hand to the rift and closed it, closing her eyes as her body quivered with the effort. 

Beneath her feet, the glyphs flashed, and then faded away, leaving no trace. Avexis stood, outwardly unmarked, and then locked eyes with him, and smiled. 

Her knees buckled, and Cullen barely made it before she collapsed, struggling to keep her feet underneath her. “Is it always…” 

“No.” She was sweating, and he propped her up, handing her a skin of water.  “No.  That… that was new.  Even the Frostbacks weren’t so… stubborn.”  She shook her head.  “It felt like it _belonged._ Before it was always sealing the Fade away.  But this rift felt like a door in a wall?  Or like what was on the other side was more real than we are…” 

Sigrid was muttering to herself, prowling around where it had been. Cullen forced himself not to draw his sword.  There was no threat any longer.  “What does that mean, Ladybird?” 

She shrugged and drank again. “Je ne sais pas.  What is the phrase – ‘your guess is as good as mine’?  I don’t know if I want to know.  But it was strong.  If the others are this bad, we… we have a problem.” 

“No kidding,” Varric was sweating as well, even though he hadn’t drawn Bianca. “I need a drink.”  He stared around him.  “Hanged Man?”  He winced.  “Damn it, I can’t go in there without getting mobbed.  Hawke’s place, then.  She and Fenris’ll have something strong enough to make this memory fade.  I hope.”  The dwarf shuddered. 

He turned to leave, the rest of the small group following, as the Guards slowly removed the barriers put up. Around them, elves drifted out of their homes, staring at where the rift used to be.  A little boy, no higher than his mother’s knee darted out, laughing, and ran directly into Cullen’s legs.  He backed away.  “I’m sorry, Serah!” 

His mother scrambled forward, grabbing at him. “He didn’t mean anything!”  She cowered. 

“He’s fine,” Cullen stammered. “Just fine.  He’s safer now, with the rift gone.” 

Wide eyed elves stared at his words, with various expressions of disbelief, and Varric laughed. “You’ve made an impression, Curly.” 

“A good one, I hope,” he turned away, glad now that his sword was still on his hip. “They don’t remember me?” 

“They didn’t get the good kind of Templars down here,” Varric reminded him. 

“But surely Aveline…” 

“Elves quit the Guard as fast as she hires them,” Varric muttered at him. “She’s trying, really.  But racism rots people.  And they won’t tell who’s responsible.”  He sighed and turned away, shoulders bent.  “Scared for their families, no doubt.  People are jerks.” 

Cullen watched Avexis turn back, and hold out her hand to the young mother, who took it, dumbfounded. “I’m the Inquisitor,” she began, “I want you to send someone to the Keep if there’s anything you need.  Do you understand?” 

The woman looked more scared than ever. “Serah, I don’t know…” 

“Promise me.” 

“I promise.” The woman retreated back to her home.  “I’ll promise whatever you like.  Just don’t hurt us.”

Avexis closed her eyes, looking resigned, and then turned away to join them. They turned the corner before she spoke.  “She’ll never ask, will she?” 

“It’s too much to ask to change the world in a day,” Varric ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m going to need a double.  Hope Fenris doesn’t snarl too much at the imposition.”

Cullen rather agreed.

 


	24. Worse Things than Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know. It's been a hard year, and though I was ready to post this chapter Monday, suddenly my laptop wouldn't connect to the internet.
> 
> I am writing when I don't post - mostly. I'm working on getting some of my many projects pared down, too, so that I can refocus on the big ones. Too many projects means nothing gets done on time. And this isn't iduna's fault - it's all me. At least there were no family deaths this month... so far.

A young blond woman, slight and young, opened the door to Hawke’s home, bowing. “Viscount Tethras, welcome.  Mistress Hawke will be delighted to see you.”  There was squalling behind the closed door just beyond her, and she winced.  “Normally, anyway.  I’m afraid the young mistress is having another hard day.”

“It’s okay, Orana,” Varric patted her arm and moved through. “The baby loves me.  We’ll have her cooing in no time.”

Orana drooped with relief. “Oh, I hope so.  We’re all so very tired.  I’ve been dealing with complaints from neighbors – and you know they don’t usually deign to pay attention to my Mistress since Master Fenris moved in…”

“You know you can take a night off and come sleep at the Keep.”

“Oh no, it’s not my place. Mistress needs me, especially right now,” the woman protested, flushing slightly.  “But thank you.”

“Do you need me to have a word with Aveline about ignoring certain noise complaints?”

Orana’s eyes flashed with something that looked like hope, “Oh, I don’t want to be trouble.”

Varric grinned. “That’s too bad. I enjoy trouble, and Bran keeps me out of it. Of all of us, you’re the least trouble.”  He waved his hand towards Cullen and Avexis.  “This is the Inquisitor – and do you remember Commander Cullen?  Or did you two never meet?”

“You are welcome, Inquisitor, Commander,” Orana curtseyed. “I’ll go get some refreshments.”  She backed away, only turning once she’d reached the inner door.  Varric swung it open wide for her, and then waved them forward to the study.

“Come on. Let’s give Hawke a nice distraction from her demonspawn.”

Cullen coughed. “Varric…”

“It’s a figure of speech, Curly.”

“Varric.” Fenris stepped forward to greet him. His usually sleek silver hair was unkempt, and there were dark circles under his pale green eyes.  “Commander.  Inquisitor.”

“Broody, you look like shit.” Varric slapped him on the back.  “Where’s my godchild?”

“Bethany took her out so we could hear each other speak.” Fenris pinched between his eyes.  “I had no idea that babies could be so loud.  How she manages to exist on so little sleep…”

“How’s Hawke?”

“Hawke is a bitter, middle-aged woman with a Nightmare demon for a baby,” a weary female voice answered. “How the Void do you think she is, Varric?”  Varric laughed and held out his arms, and Hawke hugged him, smiling reluctantly.  “There are days when I’d rather have stayed in the Fade, honestly.  The Nightmare couldn’t be more trouble than Lea.”  Wry, rueful eyes swung to Avexis, “We were already pariahs, living in sin and all that, but I didn’t even get a pity invitation to the De Launcet’s Wintersend ball this year.  We keep all the neighbors awake these days – and not for the good reasons, either.”  Fenris’ hand propped up his head, his eyes focused on Hawke.

Varric snorted, “No great loss. And you know those girls would just spend the whole time flirting with Broody.”

“Speak for yourself, I could use some good sex,” Hawke retorted, and Fenris snorted. “Besides, it’s amusing to watch him keep himself from pulling out their hearts.”  She shrugged, “It’s not that I was dying to go – but I like having the option to send my regrets.  That’s just good manners.  This year, it’s like I don’t exist.”

“The private party at the Keep will be a better time anyway,” Varric shrugged. “No dancing.  No stupid manners.  Just cards, and drinks, and exceptional company.  The guest list is excellent.”  He elbowed her.  “I hear the Inquisitor’s attending.”

“Hmm, can I bring the baby?” Hawke’s foot twisted underneath her, as if she was concerned. “Orana’s seeing a young man from the alienage, and I think he wants her to meet the family… so I won’t have a sitter.”

“And leave out Spud?” Varric shook his head.  “Who do you take me for, a despot?  And I’ve got Fenris’ favorite Grappa.  A whole crate in honor of the occasion.”

“I would be honored to attend,” Fenris rumbled, and Hawke elbowed him in the side. “I mean, we.  We would be honored to attend.”

Cullen fidgeted next to Avexis. “When…”

“Wintersend Eve, of course! And don’t you two worry about getting home – I’ll put you up for the night if someone indulges a bit too much.”  Varric winked at Fenris.

“That was once, dwarf, and under… exceptional circumstances. It’s not every day that you find out that you’re going to be a… father.”

“Of course it was, Broody.” Varric winked at Cullen.  “We’ll just drop it.  Certain company doesn’t like to be reminded of that night.”  Cullen’s shoulders relaxed abruptly.

“You must mean me,” Hawke’s voice was light. “I get proposed to, just before my lone, naked, and visibly aroused suitor collapses at my feet, and then he claims not to remember asking the next day.  I’ve practically blocked out the whole evening.”  Fenris’ shook his head and rose to travel to the sideboard, where Orana was laying out bottles and cups and a pot of tea.  “I’m still waiting for a repeat of the performance.”

“I haven’t received an invitation,” Avexis began, she met Cullen’s eyes, forehead creased.

“Oh, it’s word of mouth only. Otherwise, Bran would have me jumping through his particular hoops.  This way, he’ll be at whichever party he thinks will be more politically advantageous, making my excuses for me, and I’ll be allowed to get on with enjoying myself instead of playing host to the entire Merchant’s Guild.”

“Varric, you love being Viscount. Don’t even lie.”  Hawke collapsed into an overstuffed chair, and Fenris handed her a cup of tea, which she sipped, making a face.  “I’ll be so glad when I can drink alcohol again.”

“Never said I didn’t. But it’s still a pain in my ass.”  Varric hoisted himself up into the sole armchair with the legs cut off so that it was closer to his height.  “Now, find Sunshine and bring me my Spud before I raise your taxes.”  Fenris lifted a decanter, and with the Viscount’s nod, handed him a drink.  “Better service than the Keep.”

“I will fetch her, Hawke,” Fenris’ lips twitched. “But you may live to regret your request.” 

Hawke took another sip of tea, “Did you bring earplugs?”

 

<DT>

 

Two days before Wintersend, Cullen watched as Avexis strapped on her armor. “I don’t like this.”

“You know it needs to be done. Someone has to make sure, Cullen.”  Avexis slipped on her armored gloves, hiding the ever-sparking mark.  “And it had better be me, so that hopefully no one will have to go back into the sewers.  Besides, you know I’m the best cartographer the Inquisition has.  Varric will only need to hire a team of builders, when this is done.”

“It’s dangerous down there.”

“Everything Ladybird does is dangerous,” a familiar voice rang out behind them. “Sorry I’m late.  Bull found me first.  The brute would insist on welcoming me home ‘properly’.  I will not explain what that involved. You don’t want to know.”

Avexis’ head snapped up, and she dropped her greaves. “Dorian!”  She ran to him and hugged him.  Dorian returned the hug gingerly.

“Now, now, take it easy. I’ve been in Tevinter, where nobody touches someone else unless it’s intended as an insult,” his voice was too light.  “Between you and Bull, I might just fall to pieces.”

“It’s so good to see you.”

“I know, isn’t it?” Dorian pulled back and looked into her eyes.  “Yes, just as I suspected.  Your Commander is looking wan.  You’re too pale and thin, both of you.”  He gasped, “You’ve been pining for me!  You poor dears…”

Cullen laughed, and held out his hand. Dorian took it.  “It’s good to see you haven’t changed.”

“Naturally. And you can’t improve upon perfection – change would only be a step backwards,” Dorian choked, and cleared his voice.  “Now, where is this dangerous sewer?  And am I going to be so blessed as to accompany our Ladybird into this filthy underworld?”

“It would make me feel better.” Cullen frowned.  “The things I’ve seen here… there…”

“It’s been years since they’ve had trouble, Cullen,” Avexis tried to be gentle, and not impatient. “I suspect the worst thing I’ll see is giant spiders.”

Cullen shuddered, “Don’t remind me.”

“Just once I’d like to see the ordinary size spiders,” Dorian mused. “Just once, for a novelty.”

“And I’m going prepared.” She lifted a rune.  “Hawke had a whole stack of these just sitting around.  She was happy to donate them to the cause.  I can do without you, Dorian.  Just this once.”

Dorian lifted it out of her hand, lip curled. “Huh.  Nearly five years out of date in their design.  But functional enough, I suppose… it needs tweaking for longevity, however.”

“Well, I’m not going to critique a gift rune for its design,” Cullen admitted. “But still, I’d feel better if…”

“On the other hand, perhaps, just this once, you can do without me,” Dorian shifted away, tossing the rune back on the stack. “I do have a few things to discuss with your estimable advisor-turned-paramour.  In private.”  Avexis pretended to pout.  “As alluring as a trip into the sewer is, I think I’ll decline the honor.”

Avexis finished dressing and stood. “You’re going to talk about me, aren’t you?”

“What else would we possibly have to discuss, Amica?”  Dorian beamed.  “Now, run along and get my Amatus properly messy, would you?  He enjoys it so, and he could use a good bath. Blood and gore give me a good reason to insist upon it, and I brought him some frangipani soap that he’s going to adore.”

She rolled her eyes, kissed them both on the check, and departed, staff in hand.

“Finally,” Dorian sighed. “I thought she’d never leave.  You and I need to talk.”  He plopped himself down in a convenient armchair and templed his fingers.  “You’re going to propose.”

“I am.”

“And Josie gave you her insight, I have no doubt.”

“She has.”

“Useless. All of it.”  Dorian shook his head.  “Cullen, my friend – we are friends, are we not?”  Dorian seemed off balance, unsure.

“I thought we were?” Cullen asked, with some confusion.

“Good. Then, between friends, you’re an imbecile.”  He crossed his legs, regally.  “Avexis wouldn’t know what to do with a romantic gesture if it smacked her between the eyes with five dozen roses,” He pulled a face, “and roses are so overdone.”

Cullen wilted. “Then how do I…”

“But she still deserves romance,” Dorian frowned. “She deserves everything lovely.  It’s a huge puzzle, and you were right to tell me of your intentions.  You could even be worthy of her, with a little effort.”  His face softened.  “Come on, you need to get your mind out of the gutters, wherein fights your beloved.”  He snorted, “Bull would just be jumping right on that, you know.  Bless you for ignoring the innuendo.”

“Where are you taking me?” Cullen reached for his coat.

“Shopping.”

Cullen’s eyes lit up. “You saw my designs…”

“Yes. You might be onto something.”  Dorian admitted grudgingly.  “The stars that you constantly watched together… but doing an actual constellation on a ring… the thing would dwarf her tiny hand, unless the jewels were microscopic.”  He shook his head.  “No.  You need something more direct.  And, loathe though I am to admit it, there is an exceptional jeweler here in Kirkwall.”

“Even by Tevinter standards?”

Dorian huffed a laugh. “Better.  By _Antivan_ standards.  The whole country judges your worth by how many pounds of metal and jewels you’re wearing.  And don’t you dare tell Josie I said that, or I’ll… I’ll arrange for you to be haunted.  I have connections.”

“Lead on, then.” Slightly wary, Cullen followed him into the streets of the Hightown Bazaar, dodging questionable puddles and the remaining rubble from the Chantry tragedy.  “Where are you taking me?”

“I told you, to the Antivan jeweler that puts Kirkwall on the map,” Dorian squinted at the signage before him, before making the next left. “My parents contracted him for their wedding sets.  It’ll be a nice change for him, doing something for a couple that actually cares about each other.”  Dorian stopped so abruptly that Cullen ran into his back.  “There it is!  Now, keep quiet, and let me do the bargaining.  I know how to stroke the man’s ego.”

Half an hour later, Cullen was overwhelmed. “I can’t imagine Avexis wearing any of these,” he muttered to Dorian.

“Because she wouldn’t,” Dorian shoved the lot back at the man. “Look, what the man needs is very simple.”  He held out his hand and Cullen slipped a well-creased piece of parchment into his hand.  “You see?  Flat – not beveled.  Inset, to not interfere with staff movement or armor.  Enchanted – of course, he could have that done at Skyhold, if you can’t manage it… but the Commander’s design is too convoluted.  Surely you can imagine something more elegant, and less esoteric, that is in keeping with the theme of the design?”

“I can enchant in-house,” the merchant protested, “We have a Tranquil on site,” and Dorian looked down his nose at the man.

“Of course, you do,” Dorian allowed, teeth clenched. “However, your Tranquil is not nearly as good as our Arcanist. Platinum, because gold will just wash her out.  No need to make her less lovely than her jewelry.”

“Impossible,” Cullen whispered, indignant.

Dorian’s lips twitched, ever so slightly. “Now… what do you make of it?”

The jeweler frowned, “I think I see. All these stones - princess cut – but set into the metal.  Like…” he pulled a few loose stones out from under the counter and arranged five of them precisely.  “Like this?”

“Better quality, I hope,” sneered Dorian.

“Only the best, Serah. These are merely examples.  My best stones are in the safe.”

“That will be determined after I see them. I am pleased with the design, if the Commander is?”

Cullen looked at the stones, and then allowed himself a smile. “It’s perfect.”

“Then give the man his money.” Dorian turned away to lean against the wall.  “Quick, before your love emerges from the deep, triumphant and smeared with the unspeakable.  We don’t want tardiness ruining the surprise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The mentioned proposal has it's own fic. It's called Mistakes Were Made, and it's part of this series. Check it out if you want to know how Fenris proposed.


	25. The Word Spreads - and so do the Rifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The theory about the rifts in this chapter is directly attributed to 'Dumped, Drunk, and Dalish' on Twitter. She has a detailed map of Thedas showing where the Veil is weakened.
> 
> It's a mess, y'all. Go find her and see it for yourself. That thing's coming down, Solas or no Solas.

“That was disgusting,” Avexis’ lip curled as she removed her armor about two hours later, in the privacy of their room. “I don’t blame Hawke for refusing to go again.” 

“I’m just glad you’re safe.” 

“And yet you aren’t rushing to embrace me, I notice.” Her arch glance over her shoulder made him smirk, even as he replied, outwardly calm. 

“I called for a bath?” 

“True love,” Avexis stretched, free of all her garments except her breastband and smallclothes. Cullen reminded himself to breathe, watching the curve of her legs.  “Mind you, I wouldn’t want to come within twenty feet of myself, if I had a choice.” 

“All the better that the bath is on its way then.” Cullen leaned back in the chair, to watch her.  “What’s on the agenda for tomorrow?” 

“A nice long hike, apparently,” Her voice was muffled as she picked up her discarded items with two fingers and a curled lip. “There’s a rift at the base of the Sundermount.  That maleficar, Merrill, is going to take us out there – it’s where her clan died.” 

“And that’s probably why,” Cullen said aloud, without thinking. 

“Why what?” 

“Why there is a rift there,” he winced. “Haven’t you noticed?  I started thinking about it, based on your maps, Avexis.  Rifts appear near, or at, where there have been a lot of deaths.  Like the Western Approach, with the Grey Warden monuments to the various Blights.  And the Exalted Plains, with elves and villages both raised, or near that Elven Cemetery…” 

“Oh.” Avexis paled and swallowed, grabbing onto the post of the bed.  “That… makes sense.  And that horrible rift near the alienage here…” 

“And the one you’ve yet to seal, at the Gallows.” Cullen’s head tilted sideways, knowing he looked worried.  “That was where the slaves were kept, when Kirkwall belonged to Tevinter.” 

Avexis had turned a pale shade of green. “Createur,” she murmured.  “C’est…”  she was interrupted with a knock on the door, and squeaking, she dove for her robe.  “Enter!” 

The usual parade of servants carrying the washtub and pitchers entered, one by one filling the tub, and filing back out silently. “Merci,” she waved the last one out and struggled back out of her robe.  “Someday I will fill my own bath.” 

Cullen laughed, “That’s an odd goal.” 

“Yes, well, I’m tired of the lack of privacy of the Inquisitor. I never had it in the Circle, either.  It seems like luxury, to be able to bathe completely alone.” 

He understood now. “I’ll help, if you like.” 

She smiled at him sideways. “You can carry the heaviest buckets, perhaps.”  She tilted her nose up and stepped into the tub daintily, prim despite the smear of something truly disgusting on her cheek.  Cullen leaned his head on his hand, propped up on the arm of the chair.  “And if you’re just going to sit there, you can scrub my back.” 

Laughing, he stood. “I was rather admiring the view.” 

“Then admire it from a bit closer,” her eyes were the opposite of innocent, but she didn’t touch him. 

Washed and dried, Avexis curled up in the bed and was asleep in moments – a regular occurrence since she’d arrived in Kirkwall. Cullen watched her, not tired himself, with the lack of exercise he was getting while on so-called ‘light’ duty. 

She continued to be amazing. 

He couldn’t help it – his mind strayed to the ring he’d ordered that day. It should be done within the week – and they were supposed to stay two, to survey the surrounding area and locate any rifts that Varric and Aveline’s people might have missed. 

But perhaps he could be of more help. He could talk to Hawke… 

If she would speak to him. He rolled over on his back, wincing.  It wasn’t guaranteed.  Besides the new baby occupying her mind, he’d… made personal mistakes in his time in Kirkwall.  They weren’t friends, but they were ‘friend-ish’.  Would that be enough, to allow him to drag through her memories and find out where she thought rifts would be most likely? 

He had his own suspicions. That warehouse by the docks, where Samson had lured Olivia with passage out of Kirkwall – and the site of her death.  And hadn’t there been a blood cult working out of there for a while, too?  The cultists ran into each other, rather… and then there was the chamber where Petrice had murdered the Qunari.  He could work with Varric to get permission from the building owners, perhaps… and there were all those caves on the Wounded Coast… 

He needed to feel useful, just like Avexis did. What was the point of being ‘Commander’ if he just laid around all day?  He could talk to Aveline again, coordinate with what she knew of the area – a lot, if he could wager a guess.  Between her and Hawke, they could probably pinpoint several previously unknown at-risk locations…

And then he would have to send Avexis in to seal the rifts. He frowned at the twist in his gut at the thought, and turned his head to watch his Ladybird, softly snoring. 

The sound made him smile, soft and fond. He curled around her, and she hummed and wiggled back towards him – probably for the warmth.  “I hate to do it,” he murmured in her ear. 

“What?” Her voice was drowsy. 

“Send you into danger.” 

“Mmm,” she was already back asleep. 

She was strong – she would survive. She had to.  She’d survived so much already. 

How much more could the Inquisition ask of one person?

 

<DT>

 

 

The next day found him outside Hawke’s door, raised fist in hand. “You should just knock,” a dry, familiar voice informed him.  “She won’t turn you away.” 

“Guard Captain!”

“Commander,” Aveline had aged well – her hair still the color of copper marigolds, the creases at her eyes ones of humor, not fatigue. “I wager you’re here for the same reason I am?” 

“I need to pick the Champion’s brain about rift locations.”

“And I’m here to inform her of two more found this morning by merchant caravans inbound from Markham.” Aveline rapped smartly on the door.  “I’m hoping she’ll go.  She needs to break away from her daughter.  Children can take over everything, if you give them an inch.” 

“I’d rather thought she was semi-retired.” 

Aveline barked a laugh, “The day Hawke ‘retires’ is the day you retire. I’ll see you both on your pyres before that happens.  We were all born to work, the three of us.” 

“If the Inquisition ends, I intend to do just that,” Cullen looked at his feet, unwilling to finish. Aveline didn’t get a chance to reply before Orana opened the door. 

“Is she awake?” Aveline broke in. 

“Yes’m, Guard Captain. She received your note, but she wasn’t expecting…” Orana’s forehead wrinkled, “I’ll let her know you brought the Commander.” 

“What, is she still in her dressing gown?” 

“…It isn’t my place to say.” 

Aveline snorted, and ever so politely shoved past the elf woman. “Hawke, you’d better be dressed.” 

“Oh, Maker,” Hawke’s voice groaned. “I am, I am.  I’m just…” 

Cullen followed at the penultimate sentence, and saw Aveline’s face soften, “Oh, Hawke, not again? I thought the gripewater was helping?” 

“It is,” the woman giggled deliriously. “We got three hours of uninterrupted sleep.  How ever you managed four of them in six years…” 

Aveline sighed, “Donnic’s mother, Hawke. We wouldn’t have made it without her.” 

“Does she need a job?” Hawke’s laugh was desperate. 

“You need a break.” 

“Mothers don’t get breaks.” 

“Like the Void, they don’t,” Aveline’s nostrils flared. “Look, Hawke, I’ve kept my mouth shut, but you and Fenris – you have no idea what you’re doing.  And neither does Bethany.” 

“Tell me something I don’t know,” the woman groaned, and tilted her head back to hit the chair rail behind her. 

“So, you’re going out with the Inquisitor to seal the rifts,” Cullen inserted before either could start back up again. “You could use the exercise, and…” 

“-and there were two new ones reported just this morning,” Aveline pulled a folded map out of her pocket. “Along the Wounded Coast.  The Inquisitor’s up Sundermount this morning with Merrill.  We’ll have to stay out overnight.” 

“How can I go? Lea needs me.” 

“A wet nurse is how rich nobles like you usually handle things,” Aveline shrugged when Hawke’s eyebrows lifted at her description. “I’d say take her with you – that’s what I did for the first six months.  Bring Fenris and let him tend the baby at the camp while you’re fighting. I’m sure I can dig up a sling to carry her in for the journey. You can’t spend your life cooped up in this house, waiting for the baby to stop screaming. By the time the first one stops, the next starts.” 

“Andraste’s Tits, Aveline, don’t even think that.” Hawke’s mouth twisted, torn, but she was thinking it over. 

“Or you could stay here and go slowly mad,” Aveline’s drier than dry tone finally coaxed a short laugh from her friend. “Or quickly mad, I know which I’d prefer.” 

“Hmmm,” Hawke bit her lip. “It would be nice to get a bit of fresh air.”  Her eyes narrowed at Cullen.  “Why’d you bring the Templar, anyway?” 

“I’m here to ask for your assistance. I didn’t know Aveline intended to visit you.”  He knew his voice was stiff, and overly formal. 

“You want a favor?” Hawke snickered, “From me?” 

Sighing, Cullen pointed to a particular point of the map – the location of the two new rifts. “If I’m not mistaken, both of these locations were the sites of particularly bloody battles, during Kirkwall’s troubles.” 

“Troubles,” mused Hawke, “is that what we’re calling them now?” 

“We could go with ‘seven years of repeated disaster’,” Aveline offered. 

“No, ‘troubles’ works.” Hawke opened her eyes and looked at the map, pulling a hand through her rough hair.  “Yes, I see what you mean.”  She hesitated, and then pointed in two more places.  “Aveline, has anyone checked the warehouses for rifts?  There’s a lot of empties, since the ‘troubles’.  We could be neck-deep in demons behind closed doors, for all we know.”

Aveline groaned, “I’ll start looking up titles.” 

“Or I could pick some locks?” The woman’s blue eyes were just as icy and calculating as Cullen remembered.  “Save you some time…” 

“What about the baby?” 

“I can pick most locks in this town in under two minutes,” Hawke smirked. “Including the ones in the Gallows.  You’re just lucky there’s nothing I really wanted from there.” 

“Shame you couldn’t have stolen that sword from Meredith before…”

“Don’t even get me started,” her eyes narrowed, and her finger shook as she pointed it at him. “I’ve done everything I can – up to and including going on this little adventure through other people’s property – to fix my and Varric’s mistake.  We’re rebuilding Kirkwall out of our own pocket, trying to make it up for what Justice did, while Anders is still staying under this roof.  I have sweated and slaved and entered the Fade while fucking pregnant, in order to make it up to everyone we hurt.”  Cullen realized belatedly that tears hovered at the corners of her eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, looking down before she realized how vulnerable she was in that minute. “I should never have insinuated…” 

“Damn right,” Hawke sat back. “Besides, I’d have had to catch her without that fucking sword. I swear that she sat in her office after hours, licking that damn thing for it to affect her like that. Shit. The woman was insane, you know.” Focusing on the map once again, she continued, “So, the warehouses are a must.  The sewers – well, your lady Inquisitor is took care of that, more power to her.”  Her fingers hovered over the parchment, a well-worn wrinkle in between her brows.  “I suppose that leaves the outlying areas.  Caves, ruins, and the like.”  She shuddered.  “I guess Lea’s going to get her first camping trip sooner rather than later.” 

“It’s good for her,” Aveline said absently, poring over her half of the map. “I’ll check Guard records, Hawke.  Maybe we can narrow down some of these locations, so we don’t have to traipse all over the countryside for weeks.”

Hawke was staring at Cullen now, her mind clearly elsewhere, “Your Lady Inquisitor… Varric said you were staying together, up at the Keep?” 

“Not that it’s any of your business, but yes.” 

“Good.” Her smile caught him by surprise.  “Oh, come on, Commander Cullen, it’s not like I haven’t seen you naked.” 

He sputtered, “I’d rather not…” 

“You think the world of her,” Hawke’s eyes were not kind. “I can tell.  I’ve seen that look on Fenris’ face a time or two, when he thinks no one is looking.  And I’m happy for you, really.”  She lifted her chin, “Are you going to marry her?” 

“…If the new Divine allows it.” Aveline’s obvious shock made him press his lips tight together.  “We’ve earned a little happiness, and she’s proven she’s no danger to others.  And… I don’t want to live without her.”  He knew his face softened when he said the last. 

“Then a word of advice,” Hawke leaned over the table. “Fenris nearly ripped my heart out of my chest when I asked him to move in with me and Lea.  And that was after he proposed in a drunken mess, only to completely forget in the morning.  I think we’re engaged, technically, but I’m not brave enough to propose setting a date unless I’m wearing full armor and the last of Sandal’s armor runes.”  She took a deep breath, “Just… mentally prepare her first.  Otherwise she’ll do something you’ll both regret.  It’s not like mages expect much – she and Fenris have a lot in common.” 

Cullen blinked, puzzled, “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

“Good, and I wish you every happiness,” her smile was wider, and gentle this time. In the distance, a piercing wail began, “Shit, speak of the demon…” she was out of the room without even a goodbye.


	26. Needles, Pricks, and other Annoyances

“Ladybird, did Montsimmard have many young children?” 

“Why do you ask?” Avexis didn’t even look up from her knitting, the mark of her hand encased in a hide glove.  She was counting, and he wondered if she’d covered it to stop interference, or if she just didn’t like looking at it. 

“Hawke is struggling, and I wondered if her child was a mage. Fussy infants often turn out that way.” 

She snorted, “I think parents discovering their child is a mage are inclined to color their experiences backward, looking for justification. But yes, the trouble sleeping…” she did look up then, her eyes shadowed, “I wondered, aussi.” 

“Can you tell?” 

“No more than you,” she shrugged. “Solas could have, I suspect.  He could tell if a person was drawing from the Fade.”  She sighed, “Cole probably could, too, come to think of it, but I can’t.  I wish I could.  The most I could recommend was some of the devices Dorian has described to help keep mage children safe while sleeping.  He’s the expert, here, not me.” 

“Dorian knows about children?” 

“He knows what his parents used with him. Or perhaps on him, hard to tell, the tales he tells. He was a little bit too precocious, if you can believe it.” Avexis smiled fondly.  “I wonder how much is truth and how much… what is the word – hyperbowl?” 

“Hyperbole,” Cullen corrected with a smirk, and she threw a knitting needle at him. He caught it.  “Maybe we should take him to Hawke’s?” 

“Do you think Hawke would mind?” Avexis, without her needle, shifted her project and tilted her head at him.  “I wouldn’t want to be a busybody…” 

“Hawke and Fenris are exhausted, and desperate. If he can help, they’ll convince Varric he needs a parade.” 

Avexis smiled, “He’d like that.” With sharper eyes and a slight frown, she added, “Wait, when did you see her?” 

“This morning.” Cullen twiddled the needle between his fingers.  “I stopped by to ask for assistance locating further rifts.  There were so many we didn’t know about at first… I thought Kirkwall might be the same.” 

“Ah,” Avexis nodded thoughtfully. “What did she say?” 

“She agreed. She’s going to check a few locations here in town on private property and let us know if you’re needed.” 

“I suppose I shouldn’t ask how she’s going to check?” 

“That’s probably for the best, Ladybird,” Cullen answered. “I wish I didn’t know, you certainly don’t need to.” 

Avexis shuddered and stared at the mass of yarn in her lap, where her left hand rested on top of it. “It’s getting worse.” 

Cullen’s own hand closed around the needle, ignoring where the sharp end poked him. “Are you in pain?” 

“It’s almost bearable. For now.”  She looked up at him.  “Solas was… dampening it, I think.  With him gone…” her words trailed off.  “I suppose it didn’t matter to him if I lived or not, as long as Corypheus died first.”  Her voice was flat.  “I wonder that he isn’t more concerned about the rifts everywhere.” 

“He loves the Fade,” Cullen reminded her, and was rewarded with a weak smile. “I find it unlikely he’d be bothered by a few demons.” 

She nodded again and held out her hand for her needle. Cullen leaned back in his chair and started twiddling it again.  “Are you going to give that back?” 

“It’s mine now,” he smirked. “You gave it to me.” 

“Is that the way this is going?” She tossed her braid back over her shoulder and smiled, sultry and slow at him.  “Cullen.” 

He loved the way she said his name. “Avexis?” 

“May I have my needle back, s’il vous plait?” 

“I don’t please.” His smile spread. 

She rose, slowly, and crossed the room, hips swinging. “I’d be very, very grateful.”  Avexis purred like a cat as she settled in his lap. She kissed his neck, and her fingers stretched out to reach his far hand.  He stretched his arm out as far as it would go, until she was straddling him, all seduction abandoned in favor of her goal.  “Cullen.” 

“Avexis,” he murmured, looking up at her face. 

She colored and let her hand fall to his shoulder. “We can’t.  Bethany…” 

“Will never know. She’s so busy with the baby…. And Anders… she’s probably forgotten.  And I’m going with you when you leave for the Coast.  I’d rather make love to you in a bed than… well, just about anywhere on the Coast.”  He pretended to think, “Though there are some very nice caves, I suppose, and some of the ruins are quite lovely.” 

Avexis bounced on his lap slightly, the color rising to her neck and cheeks. “She’ll know.” 

“Not if you don’t tell her.” He took the risk of wrapping a hand around the small of her back, pulling her closer.  “It’s been months, Ladybird.” 

“I… know.” Her face, freckling once again, flushed to the tips of her ears.  “Believe me, I know.” 

“Then… let’s…” he brought the hand with the needle to the back of her neck. She took it from him and twisted her hair up into a bun, sticking it through.  Like magic, it held.  His lips met hers and melted. 

And then the door slammed open. “Shit!” Varric spun around, “I told you to knock, Hawke!” 

“I thought Ser Cullen was…” 

“He is,” Avexis wasn’t embarrassed, but she pulled away, grumpiness creasing her face. “And we weren’t.” 

“That’s not what it looked like,” Dorian announced from the far side of the hall. “I approve wholeheartedly, naturally.” 

“Looked good from here, too,” Bull rumbled. 

“Sweet Maker, all you all here?”  


“It’s an emergency,” Varric turned back around, his chest still a little red from embarrassment. “We’ve got a rift at the docks, in that damned warehouse.  It’s got to be sealed.  Now.  Before a mass of terror, fear, and despair demons take over shipping for the entire city.” 

“And that would be different how?” Hawke snarked. 

“That’s hurtful, Hawke.” 

Avexis cast a glance at her knitting and sighed. “Un moment, s’il vous plait.”  She removed herself from Cullen’s lap, and pulled the needle out of her hair. 

“Absolutely,” Hawke winked. “Take your time!   She closed the door gently, before yelling, “We’re in no hurry…. Really!” 

“Sometimes I hate that woman,” Cullen stated, a little too calmly. 

“You and me both.” Avexis began to pull back on her armor, piece by piece.  “To the docks, then?” 

“And I’ll see you after.”

<DT>

 

Demons had been spawning for months – strengthening themselves on the Fade magic leaking from the rift.  Just entering the door made Avexis’ stomach lurch. 

It took her five minutes to make it to the main chamber, where a barrier had been erected. “Hello!”  Another elf chirped from the floor.  “Varr – I mean, Viscout Tethras said you could use some help!” 

“Bonjour, Merrill,” Avexis tried not to look at her arms. It wouldn’t do to draw attention to her blood magic.  Cullen was frustrated enough already.  “Thank you.  This is… nasty, isn’t it?” 

“Very,” the elf’s eyes widened. “I can’t believe I didn’t feel it – but I don’t leave the alienage much.  I don’t like the attention.” 

Avexis counted demons. Three Pride, three Despair – she’d be able to counter those, at least, but Pride was the worst combination for her skills.  She would have to set the warriors on them and dodge constantly when they came after the mark.  “Are those Desire demons?”  She’d never seen any look like that… like men, not women, horned and draped with jewelry hanging from their ears and nipples. 

“Unusual,” Merrill mused, seemingly unconcerned. “They usually favor women – but maybe they’re pulling on someone else’s desires.” 

Avexis felt herself color, “Can you take down the barrier?” 

The woman frowned, “I’d rather not leave it down. If one escapes, the whole city will feel it.” 

“Ah.” Avexis thought for a second.  “Lower it for a moment then and let me through.  I’ll cast my own, after.” 

Merrill nodded, still smiling, and dropped the barrier. Bull rushed in and engaged two of the Pride demons, and Aveline the third.  Varric aimed and fired, and Avexis cast – first a lightning cage, and then the mark special barrier dome.  “Oh, that’s pretty!”  The blood mage enthused. 

Pretty. That wasn’t a word she’d ever think of to describe anything that came from the Fade.  Avexis concentrated on the Despair in front of her and watched the magic arc to the Desire surrounding it. 

While they were stunned, she connected with the rift. The power built up, thick lines connecting her to the edges, trying to draw it back together… and then it snapped, flinging her backwards. 

“Avexis!” Cullen shouted from the other side of the barrier.  She fought off the wave of dizziness, tried to struggle upright. 

Her eyes focused, and a Pride demon lumbered towards her, whip raised. “Avexis!” 

She rolled out of the way, barely dodging, as Bull taunted the thing deliberately. 

It ignored him. Avexis struggled back to her feet, and Fadestepped to the other side of the rift, and attempted to connect again. 

Once again, she found herself on her back. “Why isn’t it working?”  Dorian shouted from his place. 

“How the Void should I know?” She gasped and used her staff to leverage herself upright. 

“Boss…” Bull rumbled. “I need some help here.”  Panting, he downed a potion. 

“Let me in,” Cullen demanded of Merrill, maintaining the barrier on the other side. 

“No!” Avexis shouted.  “You’re not well.” 

“They’re going to kill you!” 

“Don’t you dare come any closer,” she threatened. 

One more time, she connected with the rift. 

This time, it worked. The threads didn’t snap back, the magic stopped flowing.  Pride demons fell to their knees, and Aveline, Bull and Blackwall took one out.  Dizzy, Avexis spun around, looking for a target. 

The movement confused her, and she bent over, gagging. 

“She doesn’t look well,” Merrill’s voice inserted timorously. “Is she all right?” 

Avexis forced herself back upright, and cast – almost randomly. Another Pride fell and dissolved, but the Despair demons were gaining.  “Stand back, I’m going to have to use the mark!” She hated doing this, but she lifted her hand, and let it explode. 

Her whole body bloomed, nerves exploding in nauseous energy that consumed her whole. Demons disappeared, and she swung back towards the rift, lifting her hand again. 

It closed, and so did her eyes. 

She hit the ground and knew no more.

 

<DT>

 

“What the hell was that?” Cullen dragged his hand through his hair. 

“If I knew, I’d tell you, Curly,” Varric – like everyone there – was haggard with lack of sleep. A nearly empty whisky bottle was displayed before them.  Now they were drunk, Avexis was still knocked out solid, with Bethany and Anders doing what they could to bring her back. 

“I’ve never seen one of those that strong,” muttered Blackwall, staring into his empty glass. Varric poured him more.  “Even in Crestwood…” 

“That one was something, all right,” Bull rumbled. Dorian curled himself tighter into his side. 

Anders and Bethany emerged from the room, “Is she…” Cullen pushed himself to ask. “She’s alive,” Bethany said after a moment.  “But I don’t know how much more she can handle.” 

Anders rubbed his face. “Varric, it would be best if one of us stayed here for the night.  She’s all right for now, but…” 

“Of course,” Varric rang a bell. “I’ll have a room set up.” 

Cullen cupped his face in his hands. “How many more are there?”

“Five, I think,” Varric’s tone was apologetic. “But Curly… we can try other things.  Maybe get some mages in with barriers, ice walls, something… that worked in the Hinterlands that once, right?” 

“It was a temporary fix,” he bit off. “The mark is the only…” 

“At the cost of her life?” Bethany snapped, pointing to the room.  “That woman is dying, Cullen.  Every single time she connects herself to those things makes it worse.  Her body can’t channel that power.  It’s ripping her apart.” 

“What else can we do, though?” Aveline asked, her face drooping with fatigue.  “We can’t just leave them be.”

Bethany visibly restrained herself. “Fine,” she finally managed. “Let her kill herself saving the world. Her blood is on your hands. All of you.” She jerked away from Anders. “If there’s even any blood left after the Fade takes everything.” A groan echoed from the inner room, and she pushed past her husband to reach her patient. “Excuse me, I have a patient to save.”


	27. Incentives, Pain, and an Unexpected Letter

Three days later, they found themselves on the far side of the east entrance to the city. 

It had been three days of constant rift sealing in all-but abandoned buildings, accompanied by the curses of the Guard Captain. 

Three days of ever increasing pain, and even worse frustration. Three days of nausea, of dizziness, and being knocked silly as every single rift closed.  Avexis was spending more time on her back than upright – and had long since given up using other spells, in favor of concentrating on the one thing only she could take care of. 

It was killing her. She knew it.  She also knew there wasn’t anything she could do about it but live what remained of her life well. 

She’d woken up that morning in the best worst way – Cullen wrapped around her, hard as a rock and muttering in her ear. 

She wasn’t made to resist this level of temptation. She pointed at Bethany, scowling, and jerked her head to the left.  “Give me something to live for,” she whispered. 

“Now?” Bethany raised an amused eyebrow. 

“Damn you, Bethany, if my hand is going to kill me, I want to at least enjoy my last days.” She wasn’t going to cry, damn it. 

Bethany winced, and looked over at Cullen, who was arguing campsite locations with Aveline. “Very well.  I’ll examine him tonight, and… we’ll see.”  Apologetically, she glanced at her, “You’re in more danger than he is, I’ll admit.” 

“What joy,” Avexis clenched her teeth. 

“If I don’t hear wheezing, I’ll give him a clean bill of health.” 

Bethany and Anders drew him off, as promised, soon after they reached their campsite, with plenty of light to spare. Avexis chose to wander down by the craggy rocks overlooking the Waking Sea. 

She’d been a lot of places in Thedas, but the Wounded Coast had to be one of the prettiest – outside the Rutherford’s little cottage outside Honnleath. She closed her eyes and let herself dream of it. 

The hearth, with a fire lit, and logs crackling as the sap burned away. The ravens cawing on the roof, like they were laughing at the inhabitants.  The fennec slinking into their dens at the edge of the forest, curling up tight to keep their kits warm. 

Cullen’s arms around her as they slept on the floor, tight and protective. 

Her eyes snapped open at the first touch of a familiar hand. “Want some company, Ladybird?” 

“Toujours,” she smiled at him, and let the dream of the cottage drift away. “What did Bethany say?”  His smirk said it all.  “Shame we’re so… public, right now.” 

“True,” Cullen’s face fell. “Still – at least I’m well again.” 

“You still need to take better care of yourself,” she couldn’t stop herself from scolding. “You nearly didn’t make it.  What if you were alone, and got sick, without Bethany or Anders to help you?  What if…” 

“I’m not ever going to be so alone that no one will be able to help me,” Cullen took her marked hand, and caressed the back of it. “Am I?” 

“Hmmm,” she didn’t want to talk about it. “How far is the rift from here, do you think?” 

“A half an hour’s walk,” he nodded up the path, “That way.” 

“We should try to go early, while I’m rested, then.” She stood and brushed down her legs to shake the remains of sand free.  “Help me set up the tent?” 

“Already done,” he leaned backwards. “Thom and Bull did everyone’s.” 

“There has to be something to do.” She needed the distraction. 

“Me?” Cullen winked, and despite herself, she laughed. 

“You’re awful.” 

“Just… hopeful.” He reached up and tugged her back down next to him.  “Relax, Ladybird.  The sun’s going down, and the stars out here are second only to Skyhold.” 

She curled up her knees to her chest, and leaned against him, letting his arm fall around her. “I’m scared.” 

“I know.” His arm tightened.  “But I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” 

“And if there’s nothing you can do?” 

“There’s always something to do.” He pressed his lips against her head.  “Don’t worry, love.  Please, don’t worry.” 

 

<DT>

 

The rift wasn’t quite as bad as the rifts in Kirkwall proper, and Cullen let himself hope, as it closed in what he’d begun to think of as the ‘normal’ fashion, that perhaps the prior issues were some sort of temporary aberration. 

But then the pain hit as they were entering the gates to Hightown. Avexis fell to her knees, her palm snapping and glowing like it wanted to consume everything around them.  “GET BACK!”  She ordered, and he backed away to a safe distance as it bloomed. 

“Maker’s Mercy,” a spectator whispered, gathering her child closer. “What is that… thing?” 

“That’s the Inquisitor,” Cullen hissed at her. The glow diminished, and he dove for Avexis immediately, cradling her against his chest, and lifting. 

“I can walk…” 

“Like the Void you can,” he hissed. “We’re going to Hawke’s.” 

“I want to lie down,” her head fell against him. “It hurts.” 

“And yet you can walk?” She laughed softly. 

“Maybe not.” 

Back at Amell House, Bethany and Anders exchanged a look with each other after they examined her yet again. “You know there’s…” 

“There’s got to be something,” Cullen growled. 

“I might be able to treat the pain. Or teach her a dispel, so that she doesn’t have to let it… overflow,” Bethany allowed.  “But it’s getting worse, Cullen.”  She touched his arm.  “We might have to… remove it.” 

“I can’t do that,” Avexis was shaking, and he pulled her closer. “There might be more rifts we don’t know about…” 

“If it’s a choice between her life and the mark, there’s no choice.” 

Avexis snorted, sounding more like herself than she had in days. “That’s not what you said at Haven.  ‘We need the mark…’” 

“That was before…” his voice broke a little. “I can’t lose you, Ladybird.”  His mind wandered to the ring back at the Keep. 

“It’s growing, but it’s not to her wrist yet,” Bethany wiped her hands on a towel. “Let’s experiment with dispels, and… ways to discharge the energy.  Maybe we can…” she shrugged, “It’s like holding water in a sieve, Avexis.  It’s not going to work forever.” 

“Just long enough,” her voice was weary. “It just has to last long enough to finish the rifts.”

Cullen carried her back to the Keep, tucked her into their bed and then curled himself around her, arm across her stomach. “Cullen, if something happens to me,” Avexis began. 

“Nothing is going to happen,” he repeated. “I won’t let it.”

 

<DT>

 

The next morning dawned sunny and bright, and Avexis woke to the insistent cawing of a bird at their window. She yawned, stretched, and stumbled over to the sill, to remove the letter from Val Royeaux.  “Merde,” she breathed, and shook Cullen awake.  “Cullen.  Cullen.  It’s from Val Royeaux.  They’ve elected a new Divine.” 

“What?” His hair was glorious first thing – wild and frizzy. “When?” 

“Three days ago,” she breathed, face glowing. 

“You look… happy,” he smiled, “Is Cassandra pleased?” 

“More than.” She held out the letter.  “They elected Leliana. My backing wasn’t enough. They chose someone else.” 

“What?” He took the letter and scanned it, and then swallowed.  “Ladybird… this says that Leliana – Divine Victoria - is calling an Exalted Council?” 

“I didn’t get that far,” Avexis sat down next to him and read over his shoulder. “And… we have to go?” 

“It’ll be okay,” he assured her. “It’s a formality, nothing more.” 

“I’m not so sure.” Avexis sighed, “We’ll pack then.  As soon as we inform Varric.” 

At breakfast, Varric gripped his knife and fork tight enough to make his knuckles go white. “Well, shit.  Seeker’s… free of all that nonsense, then.” 

Avexis eyed him, “Varric…” 

“It’s good, I’m happy for her.” He stared, unseeing at his breakfast.  “Rylen, too.” 

“Oh, I don’t think Rylen’s getting anywhere fast,” Cullen admitted. “Perhaps now that the decision is made – but Cassandra will always put duty before her heart.” 

Avexis sniggered, “You never saw her with Galyan.” She flushed with amusement.  “They were sweet together.” 

“Well, at least it’s decided,” Varric seemed to shake himself free.  “I’ll write and congratulate Leliana… and maybe the Seeker, too.  Let bygones be bygones, and… all that.”  He rolled his head, with audible cracking.  “Better get to it.  When are you guys going?” 

“As soon as possible,” Avexis exchanged a look with Cullen. “We need to influence the proceedings.  I need to write to Josie.  Cullen, will you look into a ship?” 

“Gladly,” he rose from the table. “Varric – will you be attending?” 

“I’ll book my own passage.” Varric glanced up from his uneaten food.  “Better that you two keep yourselves apart from too close ties with one of the probable targets of the March, right?” 

“There isn’t going to be a March,” Avexis assured him. “I won’t let it happen.  And… neither will Leliana.” 

“Are we talking about the same Leliana?” Varric barked a cynical laugh.  “Still – at least it’s not the Seeker.”  His face softened, “She’s served the Chantry long enough.”

 

<DT>  


Avexis had written most of her letters by the time a pair of cold hands ran up the back of her neck. “Cullen!  Arretes!” 

He laughed but desisted. “A ship leaves tomorrow for Jader.  I got us on it.  I assume you want to go to Skyhold first, before descending upon Halamshiral?”

“I think Josie will demand it,” Avexis admitted, folding the last of her missives up. “Was there room for all of us?” 

“No, but I’ve booked passage for everyone else later this week.” He sat down on the bed and removed his boots.  “Letters written?” 

“And sent. All but Cassandra’s, anyway.”  Avexis frowned and tapped the corner against the desk.  “Cullen, do you think Varric…” her words trailed off. 

“Varric?” He prompted. 

“It’s just… since Rylen started courting Cassandra, he’s been… distant. Distracted.  You don’t think he…” 

“Varric and Cassandra?” Cullen snorted, “They’re barely friends, aren’t they?”

“They’re definitely friendly,” she bristled. “I’m not imagining that, at least.”  She sighed, “But… lately he seems… sad.” 

“Being Viscount is stressful, and it’s not like he was looking for the job.” Cullen shrugged, and laid back on the bed, looking up at the canopy.  “He’s still adjusting, I imagine.” 

“I suppose you’re right.” She stood, setting aside the letter.  “I’ll mail that later.”  She stretched, “I don’t suppose Varric would object to us having dinner in here, do you?” 

“He told me he’d be unavailable.” 

“Good,” Avexis smirked and climbed over him. “We’ve got a little catching up to do.” 

“Your hand?” 

“The discharging is working, when it gets bad. It’s better, for now.”  She frowned, “Cullen, I’m sitting on top of you, and you’re fussing about the mark.  Where are your priorities?” 

“I’d say they were where they’re supposed to be.” He grabbed her wandering hands and held them tight.  “I don’t want you to overextend yourself.” 

“It’s sex, not a marathon.” Her eyebrow rose mockingly, “Although…” 

Cullen laughed, and rolled her over beneath him. “You’re irresistible, Ladybird.” 

“Good,” she strained to kiss him. “Now, to work?”


	28. Comings, Goings, and Homecomings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW until the first break, and then safe thereafter.

It had been too long for either of them to be patient.

Clothes were removed with shaking hands, those shaking hands impeded by mouths searching for skin. Cullen hoisted Avexis over him, hands around her ass, hers locked behind his neck, frantic to find her lips, neck, even her chin.

The feel of his skin on her own, the rasp of his chest hair on her breasts, the drag of his tongue against her nipples… her head spun, for once in recent memory not a side effect of the damn mark.

She didn’t want to think about the mark. Not now.

Avexis found herself lifted higher, suspended over his mouth, and savored. She rocked against the tip of his nose, feeling where she was coating him with her own arousal.  He groaned praise, and she shook with the vibration, breathing his name. 

Someone knocked at the door, and they ignored it. Cullen pulled her down firmly, thrusting his tongue deeper inside.  Tension uncurled, and released, and she cried out.

The knocking stopped as she braced herself, shaking, against the headboard. Cullen kissed her inner thigh, lips slippery as she chased her own breath.

She scrambled to capture his mouth with her own, again, longing to feel like she was alive. Who knew how long she’d be able to…

She didn’t want to think about that, either. Now was when her love was stroking her ears, whispering how much he’d missed her, how he adored her, how he…

Her brain froze. “What did you just say?”

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

She choked on her longing, and sunk onto him, rocking and undulating, trying to chase the doubt out of her mind. Thoughts dissolved, leaving only groans as he hit the right place, deep inside, again and again and again.

She flew apart, gasping, and rolled as soon as she could, dragging his hands from her back, forcing him to link with hers above her head, to pin her down as if their desire alone could keep her from the Fade. He rocked into her, at first tenderly, and then, when she pressed her heels into his thighs, drove into her forcefully.

She didn’t usually want it so rough, but somehow, she needed that now. Needed him to put his own mark, his own claim on her, something real, something that the Fade could never take away from either of them.  He moaned when she nipped his shoulder, gasping out his approval and shock at the minor sting.  She lifted her hips, pulled on him to force him to push himself harder, faster.

When he came, it was with a shout of surprise that bordered on pain, followed shortly after by hoarse laughter, as he collapsed next to her. “Maker’s Breath.  What was that?”

“I love you,” she breathed, and kissed him. She hoped he missed the tears dripping onto his chest.  “I love you.”

 

<DT>

 

“Oh, so you two finally decided to leave your room?” Their host was at his most sarcastic.

“Why yes, Varric, and how was your night?” Avexis smiled at her friend.   

Varric’s mouth twitched. “Not as good as Curly’s, judging by that lovebite.”

Cullen smirked, and thanked the servant for the plate. “I slept well, thank you.”

“Fine, don’t talk about it,” he grumped. “I’ll just have to use my damn imagination for the book.”  He poked his fork at the sausages on his plate.  “I’m used to it.”

“I’m sure Bull would fill you in on his…”

“Dorian wouldn’t like it,” the dwarf sniffed, and sighed. “Sorry.  Rough night.  Had to convince Bran that I needed to go to the Council, and now he’s insisting on escorting me.  Says I can’t be trusted on my own.”  He gave the sausage a vicious stab, and picked it up and ate it, scowling.  “Because of him, we’ll be at least two weeks behind you.”

“You could reach Halamshiral before us, depending on how prepared Josie is.”

“Oh, she’s more than prepared,” Cullen contradicted, swallowing hastily. “She and Leliana have known this was coming.  Her contacts are lined up, she has quarters for everyone set aside, including the Chargers, and she…”

Avexis interrupted, “When were my advisors going to mention this to me?”

“Um… they were contingency plans, until now,” Cullen’s ears pinked all too attractively. “Sorry, love.  There was no point in worrying you.”

“Contingency plans? I’m the Inquisitor,” she frowned, “I should know when there’s a threat like this. You shouldn’t have kept it from me.”

“Contingency plans, Ladybird,” Varric said, smearing jam on a piece of bread. “You’ve met your advisors, right? None of them do spontaneity. Andrastes’s knickers, Ruffles probably has contingency plans for all of her contingency plans. We didn’t even know until a few days ago who the new Divine was. Ferelden and Orlais have been in a pissing contest for over a century now. You really didn’t think they were going to leave the Inquisition out of the fun, did you?”

“You’re right, of course. I hate that, you know.” Avexis spoke as she chewed around a bite of egg. “Still, you could have warned me about the threat.”

Cullen put down his fork, “It might not be a threat.”

“Calm down, lovebirds,” Varric held his head, and took another grudging bite of sausage. “It’s not like this is unprecedented.  I mean, they’ve been threatening an Exalted March since the damn Chantry exploded.  It just got pushed off, shunted to one side because of the war.  And at this point, who are they going to march on?  Kirkwall?  The Mages?  Fucking Tevinter? It’s not like the Chantry can wage war on all of Thedas.”

“The elves…” Avexis lost her appetite and set down her fork. “The Qun.  Blame for this situation reaches everywhere.  It’s not without precedent.”

“It’s a target rich environment,” Varric agreed, “But my advice? Steer them away from declaring war on the Qun.  We’d all be reading Koslun in a year.  Exalted March, my ass, more like Exalted Slaughter.”

“It won’t happen,” Cullen repeated.

“Not if I somehow prevent it?” Avexis shoved her plate away.  “Merde.”

“You said it, Ladybird.” Varric’s smile faltered.  “No pressure.”

 

<DT>

 

The ship to Jader was waiting for them. They boarded, with her companions waving – some cheerfully, some not so cheerfully – from the docks.

The ship cast off with the morning tide, and most of the other passengers went below, out of the wind and spray. Cullen and Avexis stayed, however, choosing to watch the docks of Kirkwall disappear into the Waking Sea.

“I never expected to travel,” Avexis said, curling into his side.

“Neither did I.” Cullen’s mouth was tight, tense.  “Templars didn’t, unless it was tracking a mage.  This is… different.”

“Are you sick?”

“Not yet.” Cullen ran his hand through his hair, feeling somehow guilty.  “It will come, I expect, once we hit more open waters.  It’s late, to try to cross.”

“Maybe we should have gone overland.”

“We’d never make it in time.”

“Josie would have planned for that,” Avexis seemed very confident. “Josie plans for everything.”

Cullen watched her for a moment, “Avexis…”

“Oui?” 

He smiled, and turned back away, “Nevermind.” He wrapped his arm tightly around her, pinning her cloak closed, to keep out the drafts.

There would be time later. The right time.

 

<DT>

 

As predicted, their arrival at Skyhold was surprisingly calm. The Inquisition’s troops had been long since sent ahead, led by Captain Roberson, and the news was that Avexis’ companions would arrive about the same time as they did – just not as rushed.

Josie had packed for both of them, and Avexis watched as Cullen snarled about her insistence on the dress uniforms. “We have to make a positive impression!”

“We’ve been making a positive impression for years!”

“My sources say…”

Avexis caught Cullen’s arm, holding him back, “Cullen, you know Josie will win this one. You’re wearing the uniform.”

For some reason, with her touch, he calmed, “All right, Ladybird.” Her cheeks pinked – they weren’t alone, though the audience was mainly Josie’s waiting runners.  “If you insist.”

“I do. Josie understands what we need to do.  And… it’s only for a little while longer?”

“One more time, then,” he smiled, widely, for a reason she couldn’t fathom. “For you.”

He left then, to coordinate with the remaining officers. Avexis watched him go, confused, “Josie… do you think Cullen is quite well?”

The Ambassador had a secret smile on her face. “Oh, I’m sure the Commander has something on his mind.  Perhaps just a touch of his usual seasickness is lingering?”

Avexis frowned. “The crossing went better than expected.  But he seems… off.  Do you think he’s tired?”

“The Commander is always tired,” Josie shrugged, and picked up her latest round of letters. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to go see Charter about getting these sent off.  Leli – I mean, Divine Victoria will be wanting to know you’ve arrived safely.”

“You honestly think she doesn’t know?”

“Of course she does!” Josie tensed, “but she should hear it from me, all the same.  We’ll leave in the morning, Inquisitor.”

 Avexis retired to her room, hoping Cullen would join her.

 He didn’t.

 


	29. The Best of Intentions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a while. I was fighting extreme business and a case of imposter syndrome that had nearly convinced me to quit writing entirely.
> 
> I'm working on it, and I hope you'll all forgive me for not getting things posted in a timely manner.

It was strange, meeting without Leliana. Charter was more grim, not nervous in her new role, but… the advisors had struck a balance between their first days in Haven, post-Conclave and Breach.  A new voice, now, when it felt like they were reaching some sort of crossroads… it took adjustment. 

Crossroads brought to mind the Hinterlands, and their early successes there. If Arl Teagan was going to be the Ambassador from Ferelden, as Josie indicated – what would that mean?  Would they have an ally, or would the man still be bitter about the damage done to his lands? 

Cullen wondered, too, how his parent’s house was faring. Unlike Avexis, he had little confidence in animal messengers. 

Lately, he’d been thinking a great deal about the little house in Honnleath. Improvements that could be made.  Little luxuries they could add.  Even furniture arrangements – his mother’s spinning wheel had always sat next to the window, but perhaps Avexis would prefer it somewhere warmer… she wasn’t used to the chill of Fereldan winters.  And was there room for a loom, perhaps? 

He shook himself. Daydreaming in a war council wasn’t like him.  Of course, the ladies had been droning on about protocol for what seemed like hours – but it was still important. 

“Commander?” Avexis looked… strangely unsure.  “Are you well?” 

“Just a headache.” He found a smile for her. “Pray, continue.” 

Josie said something about Orlais seeking to control the power of the Inquisition, and he was shocked when Avexis flew into a fury. What had he missed, in his wool-gathering?  “We seal the Breach, and they complain.  We stop the war, and they complain.”  Her fist slammed into the table, her hair raising with electricity as it escaped her braid.  “Why won’t anything in this blasted world stay fixed?”  Her mark crackled ominously, and he was given no warning before it all but exploded, driving her to her knees. 

“Avexis!” He was at her side in a moment, picking her up, supporting her. 

“Inquisitor…” Josie was halfway around the table… “What…” 

“I suppose I should have told you,” she cleared her throat, her eyes swimming with pain. “The mark is spreading. I… I don’t know how long I have.” 

He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tighter, as if his body alone could protect her from the cursed mark and her own body’s frailty. 

And he made himself a promise. He would speak to the Ambassador.  He would do something – even if they didn’t have long, he wanted it with her.

There had to be a way.

 

<DT>

 

The trip to Halamshiral was different this time – they rode, not in state, but in haste, stopping just before the gates of the city to prepare themselves for a grand entrance. 

Cullen hated every minute. Duties had pulled him away from his Ladybird at every turn – and he was sick of it, in every way.  She, of course, took it with grace, never once complaining.  It wasn’t fair, that she expected so little of him, of them.  Of the remainder of her life. 

They rode into the city, a smile on her face for every citizen, and a scowl on his for their Ambassador, who wasn’t pleased in the least, despite her easy demeanor and charming waves. 

He and Josie had argued before leaving Skyhold. Again.  About the public nature of their relationship, about how it was necessary to appease the nobles of Ferelden and Orlais. 

_“It’s just a little longer, Commander. The rumors out of Kirkwall…”_

_“I don’t want to wait. And especially not to avoid rumors.  What do I care for the gossip of bored lords and ladies?  You saw her – she doesn’t have long.  We need to seize what we can – she shouldn’t have to give everything up for the Inquisition!”_

_The Ambassador’s sweet smile grew a sharp edge. “When has what any of us wanted mattered, in light of the importance of the Inquisition, Commander?”_

_“That could - should - change,” he snapped. “She deserves better.”_

_“She does,” Josie allowed, looking away slightly. “But we aren’t finished - not yet.  If you only knew how-“_

_Cullen tried to rein in his frustration, “I know you’ve worked hard. We all have.  And perhaps, in light of these events, Avexis will lay down her burden.  Wouldn’t you prefer to lighten your workload?  If ever so little? Your duties in Antiva won’t allow you to shove them to the side for much longer, will they?”_

_“That… that is up to the Divine, and to the Inquisitor,” Josie tucked a nonexistent hair back into her bun. “It is not for me to say.  And yes, I believe that decision is coming – but not yet.  There are still threats…”_

_"There will always be threats. Her own arm is killing her. I’d say she’s earned a rest.  I would give her that.”_

Cullen scowled even deeper, to the point that Avexis’ own smile faltered. He tried, then, to temper his reaction.  He couldn’t smile, but he could… frown less, he supposed.  To make it easier for her.  They should all be trying to make it easier for her. 

He could put on an act, for her sake. 

He saw the men settled into the camp, and his own belongings to his luxurious quarters. He wasn’t going to be allowed to stay with the troops.  Not this time.  He was so bloody tired of doing what was expected, what was needful… but Josie had been extremely blunt.  The Commander needed to be accessible – not to the troops, but to the Council. 

He wasn’t supposed to be at their beck and call. He should answer only to the Maker, and to the Inquisitor. 

He scowled at the bed – too large for one, but he knew better than to hope that Avexis would be allowed to share with him – and threw his bags down onto the bed. He strode to the door, swinging it open hard enough to hit the wall, and slamming it shut loud enough to make his next door neighbor curse in what sounded like Nevarran. 

He wasn’t familiar with the city of Halamshiral – little actual fighting had been done there, outside of the ballroom. That night – he shuddered, remembering. 

Had Avexis’ hand, even then, as she closed the rifts in the palace itself, been sapping her life away? Had the price of sealing the Veil been a matter of her weaving it shut with her own life-force? 

His feet took him through the marketplace, unseeing, as people jostled and bumped into him. He walked, too fast for grace, too aimlessly for purpose, his thoughts dark, and without hope.  Life had never been fair – not for him, not for the people he loved. 

He stopped, then, and looked up at the sunset, darkening into shades of orange and deepest purple. Two colors, that shouldn’t be able to mix in nature, and yet they did.  He walked slower, looking at flower stalls, baskets filled with pansies in the same color combination. 

It felt like a sign. Who was he to tell the Maker what could and couldn’t mix?  If orange and purple could blend into beauty… then perhaps… 

He turned his way back towards the Winter Palace, with a new excitement in his step. 

He’d just do it, and damn the consequences. What the Maker joined, no man dared split asunder.

 

<DT>

 

Avexis was exhausted. The mark flittered with pain and light at the oddest times, irritating, itching, making sleep all but impossible.  And Cullen’s strange continued absences made it worse. 

She’d become too accustomed to his presence in their bed in Kirkwall. At Skyhold.  The manners hadn’t mattered there, in their home, or their friends. 

She was so tired of putting on a brave face. She scratched her palm, lightly, not wanting to inflame the mark further, and then pulled a glove on to cover it entirely.  It would be easier, perhaps, if she didn’t have to see it glow and spark.  What was it Varric said?  ‘Out of sight, out of mind?’ 

It was worth a try. She glanced around her at the gilded opulence of her rooms – right down to the golden inlay on the chamber pot in the cupboard.  It was ridiculous, such excess, and for the first time she wondered at the elves that had built the palace itself.  Had the Elvhen been so inclined to frippery, and the Orlesians merely borrowed the trappings of the culture left behind? 

Of course, they wouldn’t have been responsible for the chamber pot. Probably. 

Maker, she hoped it was a new chamber pot. 

It was so quiet, with the windows closed, that she fancied she could hear the mark spreading. She shoved a window open, to look out on the bustle of the courtyard and relaxed at the noise that drifted upwards. The delegates arrived at every moment.  She caught a glimpse of someone familiar and leaned out a little further. 

Cullen strode through the gates, scowling, and she leaned against the window frame to watch him stomp over to one of the drinking fountains. He drank, politely, as she considered his mood. 

When had she started to be able to judge his temper by his body language? She turned away to the door, determined to go meet him. 

She wanted to spend what time she had with him, before it was swallowed up by politics. 

She reached the landing of the stairs that lead to the guest wing, looking out over the spas – those at least seemed Elvhen, similar to the ruins in the Exalted Plains. It was hard to imagine something this elaborate in the middle of the still war-torn plains, but the remains of their culture told the truth. 

How much of the Exalted Council would be targeted towards finding someone, anyone to blame for the mess? Would they even recognize the Inquisition’s efforts?  Would their eyes fall on Tevinter?  On the elves, as a scapegoat?  She shivered and began to descend to where Cullen stood staring at the Memorial fountain Celene had erected in her honor.  His eyes were dark, unreadable, and he didn’t seem to notice when she approached. 

Around them, servants and nobles alike scurried around in organized chaos. For once, though, Cullen wasn’t at the center of it – not like he’d been during the ball or like at Skyhold.  Here he was just, “A Fereldan trapped in Orlais,” she said aloud. 

He started, and turned towards her, his face relaxing into joy at the sight of her. 

It made her heart ache. “Ladybird.”  He laughed, “Were my thoughts so obvious, then?” 

“Perhaps just to me.” She strolled up and took his hand.  “Such dark thoughts shouldn’t be entertained.” 

He squeezed her hand. “I know.  I know I’ve been…” he shook his head.  “It doesn’t matter.” 

“I understand.” She glanced around them.  No one seemed to be eavesdropping, but she was too Orlesian to think that there weren’t people watching.  In her preoccupation with their audience, she nearly missed his next words. 

“Marry Me.”

 


	30. Disagreements, Friends and a Gilded Wreath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't hate us. It had to happen this way.
> 
> Have faith.

“Pardon?” Avexis took an involuntary step back, and Cullen’s hand tightened on hers.  “I thought you said…” 

“I did.”

His eyes were too focused, too determined, and Avexis stared around them wildly. Two nobles were whispering behind their hands, their eyes carefully directed elsewhere.  The fountain flowed behind them, serene.  “I don’t think…” 

“None of them matter, Ladybird.” The lines around his eyes tensed.  “Only what you think matters.” 

“Cullen,” She leaned toward him, and then pulled away. “We can’t.  The Chantry.” 

“Fuck the Chantry.” 

She gasped, “You don’t mean that.” 

“I do. This time, at least.”  He risked a smile.  “I meant what I said in Kirkwall.  I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” 

The mark sparked, and she curled her fingers in, willing it not to start now. “Cullen, I… can’t.  The mark.  You know it’s bad.” 

“Damn the mark.” His mouth trembled, and she wavered.  The fountain built in her honor tinkled and splashed, the breeze shifted, and the water hit her skin, waking her from her trance. 

“It’s impossible.” Her voice sounded too high in her own ears.  “I should go.”  She stepped back – once, twice.  “People are watching.  People would _notice_.  We’re about to begin the Exalted Council!  Think of the scandal…” 

“We know people who can keep it secret, if that’s what you want.” Cullen stepped forward, once, twice. Pursuing her.  She was trapped… everyone was staring.  “Avexis.  Please.” 

“How can you ask this?” Avexis blurted out, a little too loud.  Her heart thundered in her ears, the mark pulsing in time.  “How can you do this now?” 

Cullen closed his mouth with a snap. “Forgive me, Inquisitor.  I thought… well.”  His eyes closed, “What I thought was wrong.  I apologize for… pressuring you, during what is obviously a trying time.” 

Avexis bit her lip and stepped towards him as he let her hand go. “Cullen, I don’t mean… I’m not ashamed of us.  I don’t mean that I don’t want… it’s just not the right…” 

“You’d better go.” His eyes opened, all professionalism and determination once again – the Commander, not the man.  “I’m sure you have duties to see to.” 

And Avexis fled.

 

<DT>

 

“How could she do this?” Cullen had been found by the fountain, staring into the water some minutes later, by a Red Jenny with a great deal of observational insight. The Jenny had fetched Sera, who’d dragged him into the tavern with no resistance.  He was now fenced in on several sides, lest he try to bolt for the exit. 

He had no desire to leave. Where would he go?  Halamshiral might as well have been a graveyard, for all the joy it gave him. 

Dorian leaned up against the bar in the tavern, his place on Bull’s lap precarious as he pulled his dubious ale towards him. “Did you bother to stop and listen to her reasons?  Because I suspect she tried to tell you.” 

“She…” Cullen slumped, forlorn, into his chair. “Perhaps she did.” 

“And you were too butt-hurt to hear ‘em,” Bull grunted, and poured another round for them both. “Look, I haven’t seen the boss since we pulled in, but I’ll tell her you’re looking for her, when I do.  And when you do see her, you’d better be ready.” 

“She said ‘no’,” Cullen protested. “My advances are… unwanted.” 

“Um, no she didn’t,” Dorian managed to quirk his little finger, even when he drank beer. It was distracting, and Cullen focused on it, instead of his emotions.  “She said, according to you, that ‘it wasn’t the right…’ what?  Time?  Place?  Arena?”  He waved his ale dangerously close to Sera’s head, and she shoved his arm away.  “All of the above?” 

“Oi, Mage, piss off!” She had sprawled herself over half the table, scribbling in that half-diary, half-sketchbook she kept.  The picture seemed to be of him and Avexis on a desk… Cullen averted his eyes, back to Dorian’s pinky finger.  “But he’s right,” she admitted, grudgingly.  “Quizzypants didn’t say no.  She had a ton of excuses, sure.  The Chantry.  ‘We shouldn’t’, we ‘can’t’.  Can’t never did nothing.” 

“Anything,” Dorian corrected kindly. “But the urchin does rather prove my point.”  He set his ale down gently.  “Ask again.  When things are better, and she’s not caught off guard.  When things are right.  When she’s not worried, and in pain, and afraid she’s dying.”  He paused, “Is she dying?”  His voice was calm, but his eyes were worried. 

“She might be,” Cullen allowed, letting his shoulders droop so that they framed his mug. “But all the more reason for us to take the time we have left.  I should have done this a year ago, by that reckoning.” 

“That’s sweet, but she might be thinking it’s easier just to… you know, make the break now. That it’ll be kinder, in the end,” Bull sighed, and started playing with Dorian’s hair.  Dorian leaned into his touch like a cat.  “We’ve had that talk, haven’t we, Kadan?” 

“Yes, Amatus,” Dorian was nearly purring. “But we… we’re working through it.  I can’t believe I’m telling you this, Commander, but you two need to have a good long chat.” 

“After you talk to Miss Priss,” Sera interjected, flipping a new page of her book over and spinning it to face Cullen. The archer had, in a remarkably short time, drawn a whole flock of goats, surrounded by wheat, and a little house, with a pond, and him and Avexis with exaggerated stretched out smiles.  “You know what you gotta do,” Sera finished ominously. 

He found himself outside the tavern in less than a heartbeat, Sera tipping him out of his chair with one foot while Bull promised to cover his tab, and he was half up the stairs to the room Josie had taken over for her office just a few seconds later. He would have to eat crow, after their fight at Skyhold, but if it worked… 

If it worked, it would be worth it. 

He knocked and was bid to enter. He didn’t see the need for niceties, tossing Sera’s sketch onto Josie’s desk.  “I need you to find a few things for me.” 

Josie’s eyes widened, and then she looked up. “You did something foolish, didn’t you?”  It was not a question. 

Cullen didn’t see any reason to reply. “Don’t I always?” 

Josie allowed herself to cover her eyes with one hand before looking at the picture. “And this is more nonsense.  Commander…”  Cullen braced himself against the Ambassador’s desk, lips pressed into the tightest of lines.  Josie sighed before him, even her implacable patience tested by his insistence.  On a better day, he might have felt guilty.  “Commander… Cullen, how am I supposed to find these things in Halamshiral on the eve of the Exalted Council?” 

“Compared to the marvels you’ve performed thus far, this is a minor miracle, at best.” Cullen abandoned all pride and began to beg. “I need this. They have to reach Cassandra – before I can try again.  I messed up, proposing the way I did – all our practice went out the window.  But I’m going to make this right.  I can’t live without Avexis.  So, please, help me?” 

The Ambassador sighed, “I will do my best.” 

“That’s all I can ask,” his eyes softened. “I was an idiot.” 

“I’m sure Avexis agrees,” but Josie’s mouth turned up at the edges. “Now, get out of here.  I have work to do.  I’ll send you a note, when I succeed.” 

Cullen left with a lighter heart.

 

<DT>

 

Cassandra wasn’t in the Chantry. Avexis had been forced to ask Leliana, who, after searching her face for her reasons, had directed her to a balcony outlook just outside the gardens and outbuildings.  “Look for the trail of reading material, and a mooning Knight-Captain,” she’d instructed with a laugh.  “You can’t miss her.  We’ll talk later, I hope?” 

Avexis had agreed, and taken her leave as quickly as possible, unsure what the Divine wanted. At the moment, she wasn’t sure she cared, either.  Her thoughts frantically spun through her head, and half of her wanted to turn around and tell Cullen she was wrong, even while she knew she was right… 

Love was miserable. 

But when she found her oldest friend, her own troubles had to be shoved aside. Cassandra paced the length of the balcony, like a caged cat.  “Are you well?”  Avexis asked, her own troubles momentarily set aside at the turmoil in her eyes. 

Those eyes slid away from her, and then snapped back. “Avexis.  You need to do what your heart tells you.  Not what everyone will approve of.” 

“What are you…” Avexis managed to laugh, hoping it sounded easy, not choked. “Who have you been talking to?”  Rumors didn’t spread that fast, did they? 

Cassandra blinked, “Oh. Oh.  Are you not?”  She colored, red on olive skin.  “That dwarf.  Why do I ever believe a single word…” 

“Is Varric here? Already?”  Her head spun in confusion.  “How did I miss…” 

“No.” Cassandra’s mouth closed, tight.  “Not yet.  He’s… he should arrive tomorrow.”  She looked away again.  “Forgive me, I was informed that Cullen… that you were…” her upper lip curled.  “I was told he was going to propose marriage.” 

Avexis sat down on the bench, the cold of the stone seat seeping up through the fabric. “He did.” 

“And?” Cassandra seemed to be holding her breath. 

“I can’t understand how he could ask _now._ Now, when everything’s falling apart! In view of half the court of Halamshiral!  And then only to insinuate that it needed to be secret!”  Avexis hadn’t realized she was angry until the words started to flow.  “A secret – as if we haven’t both had enough sneaking around in Circles to last us the rest of our lives!” 

“The fool,” Cassandra snarled, but just as quickly, calmed, glancing up a nearby set of stairs that seemed to lead to a tavern. “Still… misunderstandings happen.  Perhaps… perhaps he regrets…” 

“I can’t imagine I’ve left him any opening for a repetition.” Avexis curled up, folding her arms around her knees.  “But with the mark killing me not so slowly, and the Council…” she shook her head.  “It’s not as if I could say yes, even if all those things weren’t happening.  Look who we are!”  She fought to keep back the tears.  “I may be Tranquil again within a month.” 

Cassandra took a breath, and then plunged forward – speaking like she fought – furiously, with no hesitation. “Perhaps now that things are falling apart is the perfect time to be selfish.”  She stared, eyes narrowed, up the stairs that led to the tavern, the words stabbing out of her with precision and brute force.  “Perhaps that is what Cullen is thinking, proposing at such a time.”  She grabbed at Avexis’ arm and tugged her to her feet, the opposite of gentle.  “Come with me, I want to show you something.” 

She dragged her friend towards the Chantry, avoiding the common routes, slipping through a back entrance and glaring at everyone they met in defiance. Together, they entered a small room – not unlike Avexis’ own, back in the Circle, before she was Tranquil, with a double bed, a simple counterpane, and several vases of fresh roses scattered everywhere.  Avexis lifted an eyebrow at the flowers, and Cassandra blushed.  “I don’t have to tell you what fools men be.  That… man sends them new, every day, along with odes to by beauty. Terrible poetry. Should I be flattered that he tries, or dismayed that it’s so bad?” 

Avexis laughed, despite her grief. “Flattered, and you don’t have to remind me how foolish men are.”  She sniffed as Cassandra bent to a simple chest, inserting a key with a soft _snick._ Her friend’s shoulders bent, in uncharacteristic defeat, and then she lifted something wrapped in silk out of the chest. 

“It was foolish of me, to keep this, I suppose.” She rose gracefully to her feet in one movement, turning back, cheeks flushed.  “But… Divine Beatrix gave it to me, when Galyan and I saved her life.  I almost threw it away, when she was not herself, at the end, but… I didn’t.  I’m glad for it now.”  She took a finger, and flicked the silk wrapping away, revealing a golden wreath of Prophet’s Laurel. 

Avexis stared at the beautiful thing. “I remember.”  Her voice was tight.  “Galyan whispered to me about how beautiful you looked, like the Maker himself had crowned you his bride.” 

Cassandra snorted, fondly, “The sentimental fool.” For once the memory didn’t seem to cause her pain. 

“It’s lovely, Cassandra,” Avexis tilted her head, “But why did you want to show me this?” 

“Because…” the Seeker paused, as if weighing her words more carefully than she ever had. They came slow, then, cautiously, “Cullen will come to his senses.  He’s not unintelligent, even if he is a man.  He will come back, prepared, with apologies, and counterarguments. He might even try something romantic. Stranger things have happened.  He cares for you – his feelings are sincere.  And if… and since you return them, you should accept.” 

Avexis’ eyes went wide, “Cassandra…” 

The Seeker flushed again, “I know, I should take my own advice. And… I will, when the idiot asks again.  And if he doesn’t, I’ll ask him, and be done with this nonsense.”  She huffed and thrust the wreath at her.  “But when your Commander comes back, and you say yes, I want you to wear this.”  She lifted it, and set it on her hair, without gentleness.  The metal leaves pricked at her scalp.  “It’s blasted uncomfortable,” she admitted sheepishly, “but it is pretty.”  She shrugged, letting her hands fall.  “You should be married in something pretty.  You might not have time for flowers and music, but… you’ll have this.” 

Avexis’ mouth twisted, “You seem confident.” Her shaking hand touched the tip of one leaf and fell back to her side. 

“Years of experience.” Cassandra managed a smile.  “Galyan always came back.  It wasn’t until I left him that we…” she sighed.  “You haven’t left.  Your objections were valid, and he was hasty.  That man is like a Mabari with a bone when he gets something in his head. He will come around. He will try again and when he does, you’ll stop being silly and say yes.  I wish I had, long ago.” 

“So romantic,” Avexis teased, even though her ears were ringing, and her heart thudding. “But… maybe I will. If he asks again.” 

“Good,” Cassandra braced her shoulders. “Now, get out of here.  I have an appointment with a Knight-Captain that shouldn’t be put off any longer.  He will speak to me, or I’ll have his liver.  His choice.”  The Seeker pushed past her, and headed back in the direction of the tavern, leaving her alone again, with a golden wreath on her head. 

She pulled it free, feeling a few stray hairs pull loose, and she wrapped it again in the silk handkerchief Cassandra had kept it in, tracing the R d’M embroidered in a staid grey on one corner. Silently, she made her way back to her room, and laid it in her own chest, cradled by several woolly scarves that tried to catch at the gilded leaves where they poked out of the handkerchief.  She would return the fabric to Cassandra later – when she wasn’t busy. 

She rocked back on her heels, staring at the strange lump. Would she be brave enough to wear it, given opportunity?  She closed the chest and her eyes. 

As Cullen always said, it was time to work. But her thoughts were not as easy to set aside as a wreath.

 


	31. Surprises, Trails, and a New Companion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm headed out of state for the next few weeks, and am unable to estimate how often I'll be able to post. I'm going to do my best to get a couple of chapters up during that time, but it depends on family matters more than my diligence.
> 
> Thank you all for continuing to read.

Avexis found Josie fluttering amongst nobles by the Council’s entrance, simultaneously parrying both their concerns and their frivolities. “Inquisitor!”  She beamed, as if she hadn’t a care in the world.  “I have a favor to ask…” belatedly, she noticed Avexis’ mood, her face falling abruptly.  “What is wrong, my friend?” 

“I’m…” Avexis glanced at the crowd surrounding her and shrugged. “I’m fine.” 

Josie’s brow furrowed, “You have never been a good liar. Excellent Inquisitor and a wonderful friend, but a bad liar. You need a distraction.” She thrust out her lower lip, and began again, “I was hoping you would care to join me at an event this evening.  Something to take our minds off everything… going on.”  Her fingers gestured elegantly.  “Would you mind spending a little time with me?” 

Avexis summoned a smile, with only a little less effort than it would take to raise the dead. “Josie, I would be delighted.”

The opera was amazing, if louder than she’d expected. Avexis hadn’t known what to expect, truly – public performances hadn’t been something that she’d been able to indulge in… or enjoy. 

She certainly hadn’t counted on the alcoholic intermission with the tasting of fine red wines Josie had scheduled for her. Nor had she anticipated the exuberant performance of the players, or the tasseled and autographed velvet book presented to her with the compliments of the theatre, that explained the significance of the masks.  It had been a lovely evening, the two of them giggling like schoolgirls over ‘just one last’ glass of wine before they fell into their respective beds in the very early morning.  Almost enough to let her forget her heartbreak. 

She didn’t think her bed had ever felt so lonely. 

She hadn’t expected to be awoken to a pounding headache that echoed with the noise coming from the other side of her door. The Council wasn’t supposed to convene until after lunch… 

Muddled, she staggered across the room and swung the door open. “We have to talk,” Divine Victoria was on the other side, looking impeccable, as always, despite the ridiculous hat and the absurd hour. 

She found herself dressing in haste, pulling a vest over a clean shirt and hoisting her breeches up while the Divine continued to speak. “I got the news in the night – a Qunari warrior, in full armor, was found murdered on the grounds of the Winter Palace.”  Avexis stumbled out the door, following her once spymaster, noticing how the early workers bowed and removed themselves from their path. For once, thank the Maker, it wasn’t because of her. It was because the Divine was marching in front of her, practically daring them to get in her way. In her years as Inquisitor, not matter how many times she showed up in odd places, covered in blood or demon goop, no one ever looked at her with the fear the Divine Victoria now inspired. Avexis wasn’t exactly sure if she was impressed or slightly jealous. 

She noticed that they were following a blood trail dotting along the ground – but Leliana didn’t mince her steps to spare her elaborate shoes, or slow in the slightest, or even condescend to point it out, and Avexis felt a grudging admiration for the woman. Perhaps the Chantry was in good hands, after all – Leliana had never flinched from the necessary.

The trail led them to an antechamber off to the right of the main gates – Avexis thought she had found a halla statue there once, perhaps… but it was impossible to be sure it was the same room. Years had passed, and so much about the Palace had changed.  

The enormous warrior was indeed in full armor – It wasn’t that she didn’t believe her former spymaster, it was that she couldn’t grasp how he got there without anyone noticing him. There was no way he could pass for part of the Inquisition’s honor guard, not in that get up. “He was found here?  How?” 

“Yes. Leliana knelt, not carrying that her robes soaked up the man’s blood.  “He’s a member of the Antaam. I asked Bull – discretely, of course, before waking you.”  Avexis met her eyes, her own narrowing in worry and reluctant suspicion.  “He doesn’t know anything and wishes he did.  You know how Bull hates not knowing everything. He doesn’t see how or why they would attempt an invasion now, but he admits that the timing is…interesting. A qunari warrior in full armor isn’t going to go unnoticed for long.  The rest of the Antaam could already be within the Winter Palace, for all we know.” 

“I think we’d know, if they were,” Avexis’ eyes fell, guilt stabbing her in the gut. Would she always suspect her closest allies of the worst?  Bull didn’t deserve her suspicion, nor did Leliana.  “Thank you for being thorough.” 

“There is more,” the Divine hesitated, and the knife twisted a little further. “The trail leads…” she pointed upwards.  “And there’s only one way into the Winter Palace that wouldn’t require passing through the gates or climbing a wall.  All of which are being watched.  You know what I mean.” 

“Createur,” Avexis whispered. “An eluvian?  Here?” 

“I knew you’d understand, Avexis,” The Divine’s forehead creased, “I know we haven’t been… close. Not like you and Josie.  Certainly not like you and Cullen.”  She laughed, “I understand I’m to wish you and the Commander joy?” 

“Not yet,” Avexis bit out. “If ever.” 

“Oh,” she frowned, “I’m sorry to hear that.” 

“If it’s meant to be, it will work out,” Avexis managed to smile, but it hurt. “So, I’m climbing trellises at the Winter Palace yet again?  Or can I walk freely through the halls this time?” 

“What would be the fun in that?” The Divine looked imperious, only the twinkle in her eye gave away the act. “We are Orlesian, are we not?” She touched Avexis’ arm. “I will, of course, assist you however I can, Inquisitor.  Will you let me?” 

“Will I trust you, you mean,” Avexis covered her hand with her own. She stood up.  “Of course I will. Can you have someone fetch Dorian, Cole and Bull.  I need people who are discreet.” 

“I think we all know when to keep a secret. I only wish it were a happier one,” Leliana rose as well.  “I’ll have them meet you in the dead end of the garden, yes?” 

“Could you have someone bring me my armor?” Avexis pushed out. It felt wrong to request such little things of the Divine. “And my staff.  And tell Josie and Cullen what’s happening.  I… I will need Josie to handle the opening of the Exalted Council, make my excuses.  And I… don’t want Cullen to worry.”  She couldn’t look her in the eye, but… but it needed to be said, all the same. 

“And he will want to tell your Honor Guard to keep a closer eye out for intruders, I have no doubt.” Leliana smiled, “Maker be with you, my friend.” 

“And with you, Divine Victoria.” 

“Leliana.”

“…Leliana, then.” She braced herself.  “I’ll wait in the garden.”

 

<DT>

 

The note came after a night of pacing, and a morning of snapping at their honor guard. Cullen couldn’t find Avexis anywhere – he’d sent people to look after her, but his troops weren’t precisely known for their stealth or observational skills.  And he couldn’t ask Charter to trail the Inquisitor.  Or ask Leliana if her agents were keeping track of the Inquisitor’s whereabouts. 

There were lines he couldn’t cross.

He’d had one of the worst nights of his life – no sleep, ridden by guilt. Why hadn’t he seen how she felt?  Was there any point in trying to make it right? 

He’d knocked, for several minutes at her door, until the Antivan Merchant Prince came out from the next door to confront his failure. “Ah, my friend,” the man purred, “Either she is not home, or doesn’t wish your company.  May I offer my own, in her place?” 

He’d politely declined, and the Antivan had disappeared again. 

He’d gone to bed, but failed to sleep, mind twisting about what could be done to fix things. The answer every time was ‘nothing - yet’, but that didn’t stop him from trying to solve the problem. 

Morning came, the note delivered by one of Josie’s runners. He headed towards Josie’s merchant at the farmer’s market several blocks over.  The animals looked better than he’d imagined they would, so far from home, and it took effort not to beam at the beautiful selection.  The ram had half a curl already – and the nanny was sleek and fat.  “How much are you asking?” 

The Avvar crossed her arms. “Fifteen hundred sovereigns.” 

“Highway robbery,” Cullen countered. “Unless their fleece is made of gold. Surely you could drop the price as it’s for a good cause…” 

“I understand it’s a bride gift,” the woman grinned, flashing wide teeth. “You wouldn’t want your bride to be insulted by how little you care.  If you’re not going to steal her properly, I set the price.” 

Cullen narrowed his eyes, and the bargaining began in earnest. “Her personal bodyguard is a Qunari, stealing her properly would be a suicide mission. What good is winning the lady if I’m dead? Thriftiness makes a wise mate.  Ten.” 

The woman’s lips twisted. “A woman easy to get isn’t always worth having.  Besides, shorting a woman on a bride gift doesn’t mean you’re thrifty, warrior.  It means you’re cheap. Her family will think you can’t provide for her properly. Twelve and a half, because I feel sorry for her poor choice in men.” 

He almost laughed. “Without a doubt she deserves better. Nevertheless, she might choose me.  Eleven.  Final offer.” 

Her eyes flashed, and his hand was grasped out of nowhere. “Done.  I’ll even throw in fodder, alongside the wheat your Ambassador asked for, and a lead rope.  May Rilla bless your marriage, lowlander.”  Her eyes squinted at him, judging, “For what it’s worth, you are far better than the one my daughter chose. There is no accounting for taste.” 

He was grateful for the feed, since he hadn’t thought about what the creatures would eat… but then again, shortly, the goats wouldn’t be his problem. The money changed hands, and he pointedly strode towards the Cathedral, tugging the goats along in his wake and ignoring the snickers of Orlesians.  One of the goats headbutted a particularly elaborated gowned noble, just as the other bleated and excreted something noxious all over the pavement stones, and he let a satisfied smile grow across his face at the gasps of polite horror. 

It was the little things that made life worth living. 

Cullen hadn’t reckoned on the Seeker. 

“Get these filthy, smelly things out of here!” Cassandra shoved the side of one of the goats, and it promptly dropped its head to nibble at her armor. “Ugh, you can’t eat metal, you… animal.”  It latched its teeth into her sword belt, and snarling, she yanked it free, unsheathing the sword and tossing it at the nearest chair.  “What were you thinking, bringing them here?  I’m not staying at the Cathedral longer than it takes me to pack up my things.” 

“You’re not?” Cullen blinked, and watched the woman use her belt to collar and leash the goat. “I thought Leliana would ask you to be her Right Hand.” 

“No.” Cassandra shifted restlessly.  “She is… taking a different direction.  I offered, but…” she shrugged.  “It matters not.  I will be returning to Skyhold with you and Avexis.  Assuming there is an Inquisition to return to, when this charade of a Council is over.”  She squinted, seeming on the verge of saying more, and then she shook herself. 

“But Rylen-” 

“You would know better than I.” Her words were sharper than her sword.  Cullen didn’t bother to correct her – he hadn’t spoken or written to the Knight Captain since he had left Skyhold.  Neither of them was much for personal letter writing.  “I have no idea what, if anything, is going on in that man’s head.  One minute he’s proposing marriage, quoting poetry beneath my window and delivering roses by the bushel, but the minute I’m available, he fucking disappears into the tavern.  Ugh. 

“You’d better not be insinuating with these… monsters, that I look old enough to be Avexis’ mother,” She shoved the goats toward him. “You don’t need my permission to marry her, you need hers. Avexis knows what she wants.  Give the damn things to her as an apology – she has the bad taste to adore the smelly creatures - and tell her that I don’t need any more scarves.”  She paused.  “Gloves would be nice, perhaps, or a cowl?  Dorian’s look very comfortable in the field.” 

With difficulty, Cullen managed to grasp the ropes of the animals, yanking them away from their not-so-tasty treat. “I will tell her, when I find her.  If she’ll listen.”  He stared at the fuzzy inconveniences, “Where am I going to keep a pair of goats?” 

“Not my problem.” Cassandra’s mouth twitched.  “You should have thought about that before you bought them.  Your poor planning doesn’t constitute my emergency.” 

And so, he found himself on the other side of the Cathedral walls – still with two goats that were increasingly testy. Cullen wandered towards the tavern, Sera or Bull would know of a stable with room to spare for a pair of homeless goats, wouldn’t they? A soft whine, followed by a yelp, disturbed his thoughts, and made his head jerk up.  A storekeeper, wielding a broom, was fending off a snarling, leaping… 

Was that a Mabari? 

Cullen acted without thinking, placing himself between the dog and the merchant, the goat rope held out at his side. The nanny promptly started nibbling at a flower bed.  “What do you think you’re doing?” 

“Is he yours, the thieving mutt?” the merchant snarled at him in Orlesian. “If he’s yours, get him out of here!  He’s scaring away my customers!  Guard!  Guard!”  Two guardsmen came running at full tilt, and Cullen couldn’t help marvel at how their masks stayed put despite the jogging. 

One of them immediately sized up the situation, and drew a chain out from his belt, “Sit, chien,” he ordered. “We’ll take you to the guard station…” 

The dog avoided them easily, whining dejectedly, and placing Cullen between himself and the law. 

“Is this your dog, sir?” The other asked, eyes hard.  “Halamshiral has leash laws, you know…” 

“He’s not…” but the dog leaned against him briefly before prancing towards the goats, barking and nipping at their heels. The animals merely bleated, and craftily stepped away. 

“We’ll have to take him in, if he’s a stray,” the guard with a chain stated firmly, and approached again. “For the love of the Maker, grab him, Andre.”  The dog snarled, bracing himself to attack.  The guard hesitated. 

“Wait…” Carefully, Cullen put down his pack of wheat, and whistled to the dog, lowering himself to one knee. The Mabari sniffed in his direction, and then pounced, knocking him over.  His pack tipped, spilling the wheat all over the pavement, and the goats seized their opportunity.  He ignored them, his attention on the dog sitting on his chest and licking his face with glee. 

“Maker’s Breath,” he breathed, but couldn’t help smiling. “Let me up, pup!” 

“He is your dog, then.” The guard said, sounding satisfied that he’d caught Cullen in a lie, as well as relieved that the matter had been dealt with without violence. Cullen couldn’t blame him - Mabari, like the Fereldans that adored them, bit people with little provocation. “I’ll expect you at the station within the hour, sir, with a leash and money for the fine.” 

Reluctantly, the dog shifted back, barking in a tone that made Cullen’s ears ache. “What’s one more for the menagerie?”  He asked aloud.  “Avexis likes animals, the more intelligent the better. I don’t suppose you’d care to help me win the heart of the fair maiden?”  The dog barked again, and moved off his chest. “In any case, you’re far better off with me then being tossed in an Orlesian prison. I’ve seen one of those, they stink more than the Orlesians do. Halamshiral is not a place for good Fereldans like us. Expatriates should stick together.”  He shifted to his feet, dislodging the ram from chewing on the rope, and shouldered his pack again.  

“Maybe you can help us find the Inquisitor?” Cullen continued talking while they walked, like the dog understood every word, oblivious to the stares of the Orlesians they passed. “She’s a beautiful elf mage, surrounded by oddballs like Tal Vashoth mercenaries, Tevinter mages, and odd dwarves. You’ll love her. Hop to it now, earn your keep.” 

The dog barked, dropped his nose to the ground, and marched off. 

Back towards the Palace. So she hadn’t run far, after all, even if she hadn’t been home the night before. 

Cullen’s feet were starting to ache, and so was his head, but his heart felt a bit lighter. Was it just the dog? 

A dog. He couldn’t help but laugh aloud, watching the Mabari bound ahead.  What the Void was he going to tell Avexis about the dog?

 


	32. Through the Looking Glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know, it's been a while, but that family stuff took up most of my time.  
> It feels good to be back.

“Here we go again,” Bull grunted on the other side of the Eluvian. “Orders, boss?” 

Avexis jumped, broken out of her reverie and wonder. The very stones of the Crossroads sparkled, the ancient trees bloomed pink and delicate, wafting impossible aromas under her nose.  “Sorry, I had forgotten all the… colors,” she waved, vaguely, lacking a better word for the sensations being the Crossroads gave her.  They were incredibly distracting.  “I suppose – I suppose we’ll continue to follow the blood trail.  It’s our only lead.”  

“They don’t see it,” Cole whispered in her ear. “Only you can feel, touch, taste, and breathe it.  It was made for you.” 

“Oh,” Avexis looked at her companions, almost pitying them. “Dorian, you can’t see this?”  A flurry of petals twisted through the gentle breeze, right in front of his face, but he didn’t even blink. 

“I see dead trees, floating rocks and disintegrating buildings, and… oh, look, something familiar, a skeleton,” he waved his hand at one Cole was fitting with a rather jaunty top hat. “There’s one just like that under Skyhold, actually…” his words trailed off.  “No, I’m sure it’s nothing… just a coincidence.  Right?” 

“Yeah, right,” Bull sounded more than uncomfortable. “Can we get moving, boss?  Place still gives me the creeps.  Like I’m moving through water, crawling with… something. You sure there aren’t any asshole demons here?” 

“No demons, Bull. Not here, anyway,” she couldn’t understand, but shrugged off that feeling of belonging, of rightness. “Spread out.  We don’t know for sure what secrets are hidden back here – and we need to do a better job than I did the last time, so that if we end up here again, we go where we need to.” 

“It wants you here. It will take you where you need to go.”  Cole wrinkled his nose, “Can’t you feel it?” 

“Then we’d best get started,” Avexis shuddered.

 

<DT>

 

Bull wasn’t at the tavern when he arrived – but Sera was. She cackled and threw herself down from her table perch to talk to the goats.  “Lookit ‘em!  Nice!”  She tilted her head sideways, so she could peer at him through the ram’s horn.  “Hey!  Can I borrow these things?” 

“They’re not things, they’re…” Cullen shouldn’t have felt so reluctant, but… they were for his Ladybird. 

“Psshht, whatever,” she grabbed at the rope despite his lack of reply. “You’ve got Commander-y stuff to do, right?  And I have some nobs need goat shit in their fancy digs.” 

Cullen paled, and grabbed back the rope. Sera yanked back.  “I am not going to let you pull Jenny tricks with Avexis’ goats.” 

“Don’t need the whole goat. Just what comes out of their arses… Wait, Avexis’ goats? You’re takin’ my advice then?  First time for everythin’” Sera straightened her head to look at him properly, “Iffen they’re hers, why’s she not here taking care of them?” 

“I can’t… find her.” 

“Oh.” Sera rocked up on her butt, tucking her feet under her.  “What did you do?  Try to offer them to Cass?!” 

“…Perhaps.” 

“Oi! Beardy!”  Sera called out an open window.  “Get yer arse on in here!  I got a good one! 

“What are you going on about?” Thom peered in, coloring when he saw Cullen.  “Commander.” 

“Rainier,” Cullen nodded, politely. 

“Are those… goats?”

Cullen sighed, and didn’t reply. “I don’t suppose either of you knows a stable that isn’t full?” 

“Not likely, with every trumped up bastard in Thedas making their way here,” Thom rumbled, beard twitching. “But…” he turned, slightly.  “Siggy, love…” 

Outside on a bench, a woman looked up. “What now?” 

“…The Commander needs a favor.” 

Sigrid paced around the goats, abruptly falling to her knees to run her hands up their legs, and under their bellies. “They’re well-tended,” she concluded at last, rocking back on her heels.  “How much did you give for them?” 

“Eleven?” 

She merely snorted, whether in derision or approval, Cullen couldn’t tell. “You could have done worse.”  She sniffed, throwing her hood back.  “What do you need from me?  There’s nothing here to heal.” 

“I… I need someone to watch them. While I work.” 

Sigrid shrugged, “All right then.” 

“Just like that?” Cullen didn’t dare let himself relax. 

“Don’t have anything else to do. And there are gardens enough, all around.  Give ‘em grass, and a long enough stake, and they’ll be content.”  She grinned.  “As content as goats ever are, anyway.  Goats love ivy, and there’s plenty here.  Shock a few Orlesians, to see livestock in open view.  Worth it, eh?” 

Cullen’s shoulders sagged, “Thank you, I owe you – you have no idea how much…” 

“Commander!” A runner dove into the tavern, panting, “Divine Victoria requests your presence, most urgently!” 

“I…” Cullen handed over the ropes to the Avvar woman. “I have to…” 

“Go.” But Sigrid grabbed his collar and yanked him down.  “And next time you propose, do it right, or steal her properly.  None of this quibbling.”  She released him when he nodded.  “Better.” 

Cullen followed the panting runner back to the Cathedral, “Leliana… what’s happened? Where’s Av – the Inquisitor?” 

“Commander, thank goodness they found you.” Her robes were bloody, he realized, and his face paled. 

“Where is she?” The Mabari – his Mabari – sniffed around the Divine ecstatically. 

“It’s not what it looks like.” 

It couldn’t be. “WHERE IS SHE?” 

“Commander!” Josie’s voice cracked like a whip.  “Avexis is… safe.”  His Mabari settled back on its haunches and barked in agreement. 

“We think,” Leliana admitted. “So far, anyway.” 

“You’re covered in blood. It’s not… it’s not…” hers, remained unspoken. 

“Avexis remains unharmed, as far as we’re aware,” Leliana sighed, and began to struggle to open her robes. “If it offends you so much, Commander, I’ll change.” 

“I’m not offended, I was… worried. I couldn’t find her. Where is she?” His voice was calmer now, and the dog pressed up against him, whining in comfort. 

“Early this morning a scout found this.” Leliana, in simple breeches and undershirt, flipped through the sketches in her hands, showing him the blood trail.  “It led to this.”  She handed him another sketch of the dead Qunari soldier.  “And then to this.” 

His hand shook as he held the picture of the Eluvian. “No.” 

“Yes,” Leliana’s eyes were sympathetic, even as her mouth quirked up. “Your Ladybird has gone through the mirror.” 

Only the Mabari kept him from falling over, his weight a comforting presence. “Then she’s…” 

“Gone, for now. Josie and I will begin the Exalted Council.  I cannot allow myself to seem overly biased, but I’m sure that, between us, we will find a way to soothe any of the Delegate’s ruffled feathers.”  Leliana took a deep breath, “The mirror led to the Crossroads, and from there the evidence went a few different directions.  My scouts are keeping a watch for her on the other side, but you’re…” 

Cullen was already shaking his head. “I can’t…” 

“Of course you can,” Josie interrupted, “For now, all we need you to do your job. The Honor Guard needs their orders from the Commander.  They need to be on alert, but discretely. If the Qun is involved, they already have spies everywhere.  Avexis took Bull with her, but we need to get opinions on who we should suspect –“ 

“I’m the spymaster here, Josie,” Leliana sounded amused, and Cullen looked up from his daze to see her smiling. “But yes, we suspect Viddathari are involved, as well as others.  Profiling doesn’t work as well you might think.” 

“Of course.” He felt as if he’d stepped through the mirror himself, disoriented and dizzy with lack of sleep. “It’s been… a very strange morning.  I apologize to you both.” 

Josie nodded, hugging her writing board to her chest. “Of course, Commander.” 

Leliana merely smiled, and asked, “Now, are you going to introduce us to your new recruit?” 

The dog at his side barked, and Cullen glanced down, smile quirking sideways. “Of course.  Dog…” he paused and shook his head.  “No, I’m sorry.  Recruit?”  His voice ordered, and the Mabari snapped to attention.  “Recruit, this is the Divine Victoria, and Ambassador Montilyet.  Follow their orders as if they were mine.” 

The dog barked and sat up still straighter. “Charmed,” Josie bent down and scratched its ears.  “I’ll lay in an order of Orlesian dog treats.  Only the best for our latest Recruit.” 

Leliana dropped to her knees and ruffled the dog’s jowls between her hands. “Who’s a good boy, then?  Is it Recruit?  Yes, it is!” 

“His name is not…” 

“You just said it was,” Leliana’s glare pierced him. “You named him, Commander.  It’s done.  Mabari remember things.” 

Cullen groaned. “Can we please get to work?” 

Leliana rose, suddenly the Divine. “Naturally.”

 

<DT>

 

Avexis panted, the latest round of Antaam dead at her feet, still sizzling from electricity. “Createur,” she finally allowed herself to look around her.  “Where are we?” 

“A Chantry, if I were to wager.” Dorian ran a finger along the nearest casement, tutting at the dust.  “An old one, long abandoned.” 

The Crossroads had apparently dumped them out somewhere the Maker had once been worshipped – but that left most of Thedas. Avexis wandered around to the back of the building.  “Then why is this here?”  A mural – the style spookily familiar – curved along the back wall, a statue of a wolf squarely in the middle.  “First all the eluvians, and then a Chantry with an icon of the Dread Wolf?”  She tapped her mouth with gloved fingers, flexing her left hand in her glove.  “And it’s a sanctuary for his followers?”  The mural depicted vallaslin being removed… “Who was Fen’Harel?”  Not for the first time, she regretted not learning more ancient Elvhen.  “I thought he was a traitor?  A murderer?” 

“There’s another sign,” Cole pointed, with shaking fingers. “It wants you to read it.  It’s for reading.” 

Avexis approached the plaque cautiously – unsure and off-center. “The eye of the Dread Wolf…” she looked around and nodded.  “Dorian, light that one,” she instructed. 

Dorian complied, and the grating sound that resulted gave her just enough time to jump back. “Createur,” she breathed, staring down at the steps.  “Where will this take us?” 

“To him,” Cole breathed, eyes wider and face paler than usual. “He made me forget, but he needs me to remember.”  His hands shook as he reached up and pulled his hat down around his ears.  “I… don’t understand.” 

Avexis shook her head, confused. “I don’t understand, either, Cole.”  She shrugged, however and descended, even as her mind tracking backwards.  “But those murals, back in the Broken Tower…” 

Dorian cursed, “Fasta Vass. He – he removed the tattoos dedicating elves to their pantheon?  Could it be?”

“How wrong could the Dalish be?” Avexis fretted. “They’ve spent so many ages preserving their history… there’s no way they could be this wrong, could they?”  She waved her left hand at the walls.  “That doesn’t look like he was a villain…” her voice faltered and stopped. 

“Stranger things have happened, Boss,” Bull reached around and took Dorian’s hand into his own shaking one. Dorian didn’t resist.  “You all right, Kadan?” 

“Fine, Amatus,” Dorian seemed more concerned with her. “Ladybird, are you…” 

“I just don’t understand,” she repeated. “But we’ll have time to worry about a legend after we defeat the Qun.  Probably.”  Her hand sparked, and she grabbed her wrist, willing it to subside.  “Let’s hurry.” 

There was an entire barracks underground, set up in what used to be a sanctuary for Fen’Harel’s followers. Avexis’ stomach sank, churning with the activity in her left hand, as she investigated.  “There’s more ahead,” Cole warned, slinking back around a corner.  “And… weapons.” 

“Weapons?” She braced herself against the wall, trying to stop her head from spinning.  “What do you mean, weapons?” 

“Gaatlok,” Bull rumbled, peeking. “As well as the usual stuff like pikes, swords… shit like that.  This is a full armory, Boss. They mean business.” 

“Merde,” Avexis cursed. “This is bad.  They were staging their attack on the Winter Palace from here?” 

“Looks like it,” Bull braced himself. “We’re gonna have to take ‘em out.” 

“I’m ready,” Dorian straightened, and adjusted his robes. “Give the word, Ladybird.”  He chuckled to himself at the rhyme, and Cole beamed at him. 

“Let’s go,” Avexis shoved the pain down, but instead of diminishing, her hand grew brighter, until the entire dark room was illuminated. She cried out, glowing bright green. 

“Well, they know we’re here now,” Bull darted out into the hallway, screaming a warcry, and Dorian followed, Cole slipping into the shadows where he was most comfortable. Avexis recovered somewhat and followed, but her friends were too efficient, so she arrived, spells ready, to all but the toughest opponent laid out flat.

She had just enough time to throw up a barrier, and then brace herself against the Qunari’s charge. Bull turned and hacked through the man’s armor, digging his axe deep enough into his skin to jerk him away.  “Pick on someone your own size,” he taunted, as he dragged him back towards him.  Dorian laid down fire glyphs, circling the battleground with his own particular talents, and tried, and failed to set a nightmare upon the soldier.  “Avexis, with me!”  He called out, and Avexis channeled her will into his.

This time, the spell took, and the Qunari warrior fell to his own fear, and then to Cole’s daggers, his bludgeon toppling with him to the stones. With a massive clatter, the weapon racks tipped behind him, so they could see the vessels of Gaatlok.  “This is… bad,” Avexis managed.  “We have to go back, warn the Council.”

Dorian nodded, leaning against his staff, even as he released his glyphs. “I suppose I should be glad he didn’t trigger those,” he managed.  “He would have taken us all with him.”

Avexis tipped her head back, and nodded, eyes closed. “We’ll have to be careful, you and I, flinging fire and lightening about like we do.”

“Perhaps…” Dorian glanced at Bull. “Perhaps you should bring Vivienne next time, instead of me.  Ice… might be better.”

Avexis’ eyes snapped open. “No. I can’t trust her.”  She pushed herself more upright, back straight.  “You’re with me, Dorian.  No matter what.”  She pushed past him.  “Come on.  Back to Halamshiral.”

 


	33. Where Your Heart Went

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know! You all thought we'd abandoned this, didn't you? It's not a dead fic, I swear.
> 
> But this was a very important chapter, so I've been stewing over it for months.
> 
> I'm hoping we got it right.
> 
> The title is a reference to the song "Pieces" by Rob Thomas, that I promised would be making a comeback in the first half of the story!
> 
> "Now and then there's a light in the darkness  
> Feel around 'til you find where your heart went.  
> There's a weight in the air but you can't say why."

The news that the Inquisitor had returned to Halamshiral hit Cullen like a brick. He grabbed his pack – still full of wheat – and then made himself set it down, deliberately. 

That was what had gotten him in trouble last time – poor timing. Not today.  The Council wouldn’t convene until tomorrow, now… plenty of time, provided this meeting didn’t run too long. 

He made his way more steadily down to the chambers that had been set aside for the Inquisition. As he entered, Josie squinted at him through tired eyes, lifting a net bag.  “These were delivered for you, Commander.”  

“I…” he flushed, taking the bag of dog treats, off balance for a moment, his hands too full. He shoved both bags under the table.  “Thank you, Ambassador.” 

“My pleasure,” she smiled, but it was fleeting. “What will we tell the Inquisitor? About the Council?” 

“What do I need to know?” Cullen gave the bag of treats a nudge with his toe.  Avexis’ eyes swiveled from Cullen’s eyes to Josie’s.  Her own were lined with worry. 

“It’s… not good, Inquisitor.” Josie launched into the most elaborate vent Cullen had ever heard from her, going on for several moments about nobles being slighted by the Inquisitor’s absence. Cullen stood, silently, focusing instead on her appearance. 

Avexis hadn’t stopped to change, the dust and blood smudged in equal measures along her face. His arm raised, and it was only with difficulty that he dropped his hand back to his side.  She wouldn’t appreciate him pawing at her, not in a War Council.  Not with the way they had left things. 

She met his stare at first but flushed and looked down too soon. “I’m sorry, Josie.”  Cullen’s attention snapped back to the meeting at the sound of her voice.  “It was unavoidable, according to Bull, but… I am sorry I don’t have better news.”  Her chin, rose, jaw clenched, and Cullen marveled at how far the former Tranquil had come since Haven.  “We’re probably at war with the Qun.” 

“WHAT?!” Cullen launched forward, and she recoiled.  He restrained himself, with difficulty.  “How?” 

“An armory, beneath a… sanctuary, dedicated to… one of the Elvhen gods.” A cloud of confusion crossed her face.  “Je ne comprends pas, but it seemed to be a Chantry – one also dedicated to Fen’Harel.”  Josie gasped.  “But that’s the least of our problems.  They had Gaatlok, Cull- Commander.” 

“Maker’s Breath,” Cullen breathed. For a moment, he was back in Kirkwall – the smoke and ash and explosions echoing around the Qun’s invasion of the city, and he was fighting back the chaos, good men and women falling all around him.  His stomach lurched, his mind stopped, and he fought to stay upright. 

“Cullen!” Avexis’ hand on his brought him back, and dazed, he stared into her eyes.  “Are… you well?”  Her hand on his wrist was warm. 

“Yes, of course.” He covered it with his own, letting his eyes soften.  “Are you?” 

“I’m…” she shook her head.  “We’ll discuss it later, oui?” 

After that, they were able to wrap up the meeting quickly, Josie promising to tell Leliana the results, as she was coping with the Fereldan and Orlesian ambassadors. Avexis led the way upward, turning before the Courtyard to confront him.  “I have… to take care of a few things.  I need certain runes, and I should try to smooth things over with the delegates,” she began, looking up at him.  “But we need… Non, I want to talk.  Can we… meet somewhere?  Later?  Soon?”  Her eyes begged him to say yes.

“Of course,” Cullen breathed, relieved. “I have some… things I need to take care of, too.”  Avexis smiled, joy lighting her face.  “In an hour, then?  By the gazebo, perhaps?  The secluded corner?” 

“Perfect,” she turned away. “Until then?” 

He raised his hand in farewell, and this time let it come to a natural rest on the back of his head. He whistled, and Recruit – damn the name, but it was done, now – came running.  “We’ve work to do,” he ordered, and the dog snapped to a sitting position.  “Good boy,” he praised, and turned back down the stairs.

First of all, his pack and the bag of dog treats. Then, back to Sigrid, and the goats, and bribing the gondolier… he cursed. 

This wasn’t going to look like how the Ambassador had dreamed it.

 

<DT>

 

Avexis managed her errands in the briefest amount of time possible, rushing through the production of runes, and their installation in her weapons – one primary, for the Qunari, and another, just in case she did manage to run into an Elvhen god, as unlikely as it seemed to happen twice in a lifetime. 

Mythal hadn’t been so bad, so maybe… she shook off the thoughts forcibly. All the stories indicated that Fen’Harel was much, much worse than Mythal could ever be.  Probably. 

She took a moment to visit with the Ambassadors, not bothering with the Game for the angry Fereldan Arl, but wrapping it around her like a security blanket for the Lord, silently swearing to make it up to Josie. Teaghan was so vitriolic, Josie must have been one step short of panic at her absence.  Lord Cyril de Montfort – leering around the edges of his mask – was far more… controlling. 

Orlais wanted to control the Inquisition, but the Lord, if he had his way, wanted to control her. Was it about mages, or was it… 

For all his fierceness, she preferred the Arl. At least she knew where she stood with him. If she never had to play the Game again the rest of her life… before she was aware of it, her feet led her to the concealed gazebo. She looked around blankly, her thoughts muddled.  

Cullen was already waiting, facing the vines, muttering to someone she couldn’t see... no, there was a _dog,_ the animal’s thoughts incredibly clear and admiring, except for the vindictive.. _._ Avexis blinked, shaking her head.  No, there was more than one creature here.  The happy adoring thoughts were all dog, and the evil ones were from…  were those goats? The additional animals chewed on ivy and tried to stretch towards whatever he was holding in his arms.  She tilted her head, wondering if she was hallucinating.  

But no, it was her Cullen, his feet surrounded with a gaping bag of the most expensive Orlesian dog treats spilling out, with a purebred Mabari studiously ignoring them, sitting at attention, and repeating _Good Girl, Good Girl, Good Girl,_ over and over in her head. 

She couldn’t help but laugh. “Createur, Cullen.  What’s going on here?” 

The goats continued to bleat and chew. Her Commander jumped, and the grains – what was he doing with wheat? – spilled, a little.  The goat trying to get to them pounced, immediately, his horns pointing dangerously in Cullen’s direction. “This… isn’t what it looks like,” Cullen started, backing away. 

Avexis’ mouth twitched, “It can’t be,” she knelt down to re-stuff the dog treats into the sack. “It looks like a Mabari and two goats ambushed you on your way back from the market.  Have you been raiding the Empress’ menagerie?” 

His mouth twitched, his cheeks colored, and she continued, rising to her feet with the net bag. “Why did you buy wheat?  We’re supposed to take all our meals with Cassandra and Rylen – she asked particularly.  Where would we prepare food?  And the dog treats – they are for the dog, non?  You didn’t let someone convince you they were fit for Fereldan consumption?  There’s hardly any meat left, mon petit-chou.”  She stepped closer, running her hand up his arm.  “Cher Commander, were you cheated?  Do you need me to have words with a merchant?” 

Cullen flushed, and rubbed the back of his neck. “No, they’re for… the dog.”  He cleared his throat.  “There wasn’t supposed to be a dog at all. But then we met and I… he needed something to eat, obviously. He was in trouble before, and he doesn’t get along with the goats.”  He jerked at the rope, both goats resisting him passively.  “They keep fighting each other.  I don’t want them to get hurt.” 

“Obviously,” Avexis giggled, and picked up the bag. “Why are you in possession of goats?” 

“Cassandra refused to take them,” Cullen tried to explain. 

Avexis shook her head, “Cullen, you make no sense. Why would you try to give Cassandra goats?”  She whinnied at them, and they approached her, butting her fondly, even while thinking more horrible thoughts about Cullen.  “They are wonderful, though,” she stroked one under the beard gently.  “A ram and nanny, a breeding pair,” she smiled.  “Cassandra will never understand, but they are darling.”  The Mabari tried to block the ram from charging Cullen, by raising up on his backlegs, and barking in Cullen’s face. 

“Damn it,” Cullen laughed, trying to dislodge him. “I give up.”  He thrust the wheat at Avexis.  “Sit,” he ordered.  Recruit sat, tongue lolling out halfway, crushing Cullen’s left foot under its butt. “Not you, Ladybird, Recruit…. Er, the dog.” 

Avexis took the wheat and tried to steer the goats away from the dog.  It seemed like the least she could do.  “Cullen… I have things to say – and if we need to find a place for these animals, we’ll have to move fast.” 

“Please, just will you… sit, as well? Please?  Let me get this out.”  He paced.  “I have been a fool.  Let me redeem myself.” 

Avexis’ mouth twitched again. “Cullen, you look, if anything, more a fool.  This is more amusing than the opera I saw last night with Josie.” 

Cullen stopped pacing. “Oh… you went out with Josie last night?  You weren’t… avoiding me?” 

Avexis frowned, “Did you come looking for me? I thought you must know… she bought tickets, and I couldn’t refuse.  I’ve always wanted to see an opera, and the way the Council is going, I may never have another chance.  Varric’s offering even odds on whether they declare me a saint, imprison me in what’s left of the Spire, or brand me all over again.  The Arl is so angry… and Orlais would control me, either way.” 

“I thought… I thought you were angry with me.” Cullen stammered.  “Because of what I said before.  When I asked you to...  About keeping it… secret.”

Avexis flushed, “Yes, well, I was. Very angry.  About the secret part, anyway.  I despise secrets.  We don’t need marriage if no one is going to know.”  She bit her lip.  “That doesn’t explain any of this.”  She tried to gesture, wheat stalks scattering about her feet, her eyes dropping to follow them.  “But that doesn’t mean I didn’t want to,” she bit out, fiercely. 

Cullen closed his eyes. “Forgive me,” he opened his eyes.  “I didn’t mean to hurt you.  But I want to make it right.  This is my way of making sure everyone knows.”  He knelt, deliberately before her. 

She choked, “Cullen?” 

“Inquisiteur Avexis,” Cullen declaimed. The nanny goat lost interest in the ivy and started nibbling on the fringe of her coat.  “Since the day we met, I have…” 

The dog barked madly at the goat, who ignored him entirely, in favor of chewing on no-doubt delectable deepstalker leather. The other goat started at the noise and buried his head – unfortunately with horns attached - into Avexis’ side. 

“Merde!” She cursed, and leapt up, dropping the wheat entirely.  The goat lunged for it, and started munching, chewing with enthusiasm and thinking happy thoughts about the success of his ploy.  “Oh, I dropped your wheat.  I’m so sorry.  I’ll buy you more… we can still get back to the market before closing, if we hurry.” 

Cullen bowed his head, lifted it, met her eyes, full of tears of pain and rue, and tried again. “Fuck the wheat, it’s not important. Avexis… since we met, I’ve been-” 

She stared at him until one of the goats bit his foot, not quite on accident, and he hopped up, cursing at the pain in his foot. “Damn it,” he bit off, frustrated beyond belief.  “I had a plan.  We were supposed to go out on a boat, but Cassandra refused to take the goats and wheat.  The boat operator refused to take ‘livestock’ on board, so the bribe for the dog didn’t mean anything…” 

“Why do you have goats at all?!” Avexis begged.  “Explain, s’il vous plait!” 

“To show I can provide for you!” He snapped out.  “It’s a Fereldan tradition!  I was supposed to give goats and wheat to Cassandra, so she can pass them to you. When she gives them to you, it’s to show her approval of your choice, and help you provide for your family.” 

Once he started, he seemed unable to stop. “I got them from an Avaar who seemed upset that I didn’t just steal you like a proper man. Then I found the dog, or the dog found me, I’m not sure which, and now he’s mine… ours? Sigrid and Thom took the smelly things for a while, the goats, I mean, but that was only after Cassandra refused to. She’s your family, right? Who else was I supposed to give them to, but…” 

Avexis’ mouth dropped open. “What are you - I don’t have a-”

“The fucking goats are bloody ruining it. There was a plan. I had a plan. Josie helped.”  His eyes begged her to understand. “There was going to be a gondolier, and a minstrel, and when Cassandra didn’t just take the bloody goats and wheat, the plan went to shit. She could have just given them to you later, but she had to be stubborn about it.”  His eyes narrowed, “I should have just gone and found Rylen.  He would have complained, but he knows how to follow orders.”  

“They’re for me?” Avexis squeaked, landing on the important detail.  “These goats are mine?” 

Cullen met her eyes, ruefully. “If you want them, anyway.  Even if you don’t want to marry me, they might listen to you better.”  His lip curled.  “I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t, honestly.”  He indicated the grey one with a nod of his head.  “That one chewed through the guide rope in the first five minutes.  I think they’re demonic.” 

Avexis giggled, “All goats are demonic, Cullen. It’s their nature.  I never told you about Lord Woolsey, did I?”  She shook her head at the goats, and Cullen’s heart fell.  “It’s too late.  I can’t possibly now.” 

“Oh,” he looked down. “I understand.  I mean… I’ll always love you, but I know how you feel about…” 

“You idiot,” she hissed, “I’m not saying no. I’m saying I can’t tell you about Lord Woolsey in front of them.  It would give them ideas.”  She laughed, “You went to so much trouble.  Where did you find the dog?” 

“The market. By coincidence.” Cullen admitted. “There was a merchant, and the dog was hungry. The guard made a mistake and thought he was mine, and then he acted like he was mine, and now he is. I think he likes me?  Maybe.  The next thing I knew I was buying choice Druffalo ribs disguised as dog treats to be delivered to the Palace.” 

“She’s beautiful,” Avexis mused, “A Mabari in Orlais. Rare.” 

“She?” 

Avexis patted the dog, the goat following her fringe. “It was you who told me the girls are fiercer, but smaller, n’est-ce pas?” 

Cullen felt an idiot. “Yes, yes, that’s true.  I suppose I was just… preoccupied, with the goats, and trying to figure out how to manage…”  He stopped, “Are you saying…” 

Avexis gasped, “And she’s going to have puppies. Poor baby…” she crooned, as the dog rolled over, to show she was clearly female.  Cullen’s eyes widened.  “Not imminently,” she laughed at him.  “They’re tiny yet.  But she knows.”  She frowned, “The father’s dead.  Wyvern hunting accident.”  The dog whined plaintively.  “We’ll take care of her.  She needs us, and she picked you.  Smart girl, with an excellent taste in men.”  She stood up, shaking the goat free of her coat.  “We’ll take them to the Cathedral’s stables.  Cassandra is not an animal person.  While the Cathedral’s stables are grand, I don’t think they have goats.  I would have heard them.  Still… they’ll do it for the Herald.  If I ask.” 

“I figured Rylen could…” Cullen stopped. “You said ‘We’.  Does that mean…” 

Avexis rolled her eyes. “Oui, Cullen.” 

Cullen groaned at her answer, stomach sinking as he remembered. “Josie is going to kill me. I was supposed to ask in Orlesian.  She’s been working with me for months… The goats have ruined everything.” 

Avexis stared at him and sat back down on the fountain’s edge. “Do it now, then,” she told him bluntly.  “I won’t have you waste your work.” 

Cullen flushed bright red, and knelt again, “Avexis, je t’adore. Je ne peux pas vivre sans toi.”  He held out his hand.  “Donne-moi la main?”  Avexis stretched out her hand, and the dog twined underneath it, rubbing and leaving dog hair behind.  “Tu seras toujours dans mon coeur.”  Her eyes were misty.  He fumbled with his off hand in his pocket, and held out a ring, and added in Common, “You already have the love knot – we can do another at our ceremony, if you like, but… I understand elves often exchange rings.  Josie thought I should…” 

Avexis’ eyes flooded. “Cullen…” 

“It’s not much, not enchanted, or anything,” he smiled, sheepish, “but it reminded Dorian and I of you, at least. You can’t believe what the jeweler wanted to charge the Fereldan Commander of the Inquisition.  Highway robbery.”  He scowled at the ring as if it had offended him. 

Avexis stared at the small amethysts, arrayed like a tiny star in a band of platinum. “It’s beautiful.” 

“You’re beautiful, and brave, and million other things that I can’t express, and don’t deserve. But I don’t want to spend another day without you, for the rest of my life,” Cullen confessed.  “Veux-tu m’espouser?” 

“Oui,” Avexis lunged at him, and tripped on the dog. “Pardon!” She laughed, as he tipped over, holding him tight.  “Oui, Cullen.  I want to marry you.”  She cupped his face, stubble pricking her hands, and kissed him. 

Around them, the goats bleated madly, attempting to butt Cullen again, prevented by the dog, but he kissed her anyway, slow, tasting salt. “When?”  He breathed.  “I don’t want to wait another day to call you my wife.” 

“And if we move fast, we can avoid nobles making a scene,” Avexis teased. “Without strictly calling it a secret wedding.” 

“There is that, yes,” Cullen laughed. 

“Then let’s find Cassandra, now,” Avexis sat back, and pulled him to his feet. “She’ll be happy to avoid elaborate manners – she’ll recommend someone, surely?  She was almost Divine, after all.” 

“But… the goats,” Cullen indicated. “I can’t go back to the Cathedral with them in tow…” 

“You can’t but I can. Watch me,” Avexis grinned. “They’ll be eating out of the Herald of Andraste’s palm.”  She looked at them.  “Maferath and Andraste,” she muttered, and glanced at Cullen.  “What are you naming the dog?” 

“Her name is Recruit,” Cullen sputtered, “But you are not naming the goats after our Lady and the Betrayer.” 

“They’re goats, Cullen, they named themselves,” she raised an eyebrow stubbornly. “Just be glad we don’t have to name them after nobility.  Lord Woolsey had such airs, you wouldn’t believe.”  She snapped, and the goats’ slitted eyes focused.  “There.  Follow me, if you please.” 

Cullen took her hand and stepped over the small pile of wheat. “Always.” 

Avexis flushed, smiling, and led the way. 

She trailed chaos behind her, in the form of goat shit and fascinated whispers. She nodded at diplomats, regal as any queen, with three moderately docile - for goats and Mabari – animals trailing behind her like a retinue, until they reached the stables.

The stablelads were more than willing to care for the Herald’s goats, especially with the help of a Mabari, and after a brief stop, they continued onwards to Cassandra’s chamber. Avexis knocked, and Cassandra opened the door a crack.  “Good.”  The woman snapped, only her head showing.  “I’m glad you’ve come to your senses.  Gisele is waiting by the arbor in the garden for you both.”  She narrowed her eyes.  “Don’t waste your second chance, either of you.” 

“Aren’t you coming?” Cullen asked, confused.  “And how did you know she’d say…” 

“Don’t be an idiot,” Cassandra growled. 

“May we come in?” Cullen tried. 

Behind her, Rylen opened the door further, smug and shirtless, his tattoos tracing downwards to his waist. “Not a chance, Commander.” 

“Ah,” Cullen raised a hand to his head, unsure where to look. “I… see.” 

“We’re busy,” Cassandra’s cheeks darkened. “Come by later.” 

Rylen laughed and winked. “Or not at all.  They’ll be ‘busy’, too, aye, lass?  Watch yourself, Commander, wedding nights lead to-” 

“Don’t call me lass,” snapped Cassandra, cutting him off, while flushing almost purple. “I wish you both all the joy in the world.  Now. _Leave.”_

The door slammed in their face, and Cullen cleared his throat. “Do you think Gisele is really waiting?” 

“She’d better be.” Avexis grabbed him by the hand and pulled him away. “I’m not going to any longer.  If she isn’t, we’re going straight to the Divine herself, shivs or no shivs.”


	34. Safe Within My Arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title from 'Even More Mine' as sung by Rita Wilson
> 
> 'There's no weapon they can swing  
> That will ever bring you harm  
> I will circle all around you  
> and keep you safe within my arms.  
> You will never feel abandoned  
> I will push the world aside  
> Know that I am yours forever  
> And you are even more mine."
> 
> NSFW towards the end.

The arbor in the corner of the garden felt safe, even with all the prying eyes just beyond the greenery. The Revered Mother waited, managed to not look surprised, or disapproving, despite their hurried explanations. 

“I would be honored to perform the ceremony,” the woman smiled, “But you’re missing something important,” Gisele’s voice gentled.

Avexis, confused, looked around. “I don’t…”

“Witnesses,” a voice projected from behind them. “And if you think I’m going to let you be married in deerstalker skin, you’re sorely mistaken. It doesn’t matter how flattering you think it is, you’ll be wed in a proper dress.”  Dorian held a bag over his arm, his nose pinched, no doubt against Avexis’ clueless nature.  “I have just the thing, as it turns out.  A little birdie told me it might be needed.”  He winked at Cullen, who couldn’t help but flush.

“And I grabbed this,” Bull lifted up a poky woolen bundle. “Sorry, Boss, had Cole pick the lock on your chest after Cassandra told us what was going on.  She said you’d want it.  Not really sorry, but I’ll say I am if you want.”

Cullen watched Avexis wipe her eyes. “I… I’m sorry I didn’t… there wasn’t time.”

“We’ve been busy,” Dorian admitted. “But we’re here, and we’ll be your witnesses, Amica.”  He cleared his throat.  “My room is close, you can change there.”  He pulled her away, leaving Cullen alone with Bull and Gisele.

The silence drug on for a few minutes before Bull felt the need to fill it. “Congrats, Cullen.”  Bull grunted.  “Wondered if you would have the guts, myself.  Varric seemed sure, but he’s been wrong before.”

Cullen colored. “Yes, well, I… I don’t want to… Avexis is…”

“I get it.” Bull’s one eye softened. “Dorian’s going back to Tevinter.  We’re… talking about it.”

Cullen snorted, “Dorian, talk? Since when?”

“Can’t get him to shut up, lately. It’s all ‘Amatus, this, and ‘Am I your Kadan, or not?’” Bull laughed and shrugged.  “He’s…” he shook his head.  “Can’t explain it.  Never thought I’d be here, honestly.”

“Same,” Cullen whispered, watching for where Avexis would emerge. “Should she be taking this long…”

 

<DT>

 

Dorian all but shoved Avexis into his room – far smaller than hers, but with a much larger bed. “Now, let’s look at you.”  He squinted.  “Bathe.  Quick.”  With a flick of his fingers the tub in the corner was steaming.  “Get in.  You’re an absolute disaster – I hope Josie didn’t let you talk to diplomats looking like that.”

“There wasn’t time…”

“And now there is. It’s not as if your Hot Templar is going to get married without you.  Strip.”  While she obeyed, Dorian took the bag and shifted a dress out of it.  “I hope you don’t mind the gown.  Josie had your measurements from the ball – but you’ve lost weight since.  And gained muscle.”  He held it up and glanced at her.  “I hope it doesn’t hang off you.”

“Does it matter?” Avexis worked lather into her hair.

“Yes.” Dorian’s voice was blunt, non-combative.  “It does.  Perhaps not to you, but to everyone that loves you.”  He cleared his throat, “You’ve… been dealt a bad hand, bella donna.”

Avexis dunked herself under the water, working the suds out, and surfaced a moment later, gasping. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” Dorian whispered, smiling sadly. “Now, if you’re quite clean…”

“Hardly,” Avexis muttered, glaring.

“It’s an improvement, at least,” he waved her protests away. “It’ll take some time to dry.  And we have to figure out what to do with your hair.  Wrap yourself up in this,” he tossed her his bathrobe, “and sit over here.”  Elegantly, he gestured towards the mirror on a desk.  “We’ve got to use that ghastly gold wreath,” he murmured, fingers on his chin.  “That limits the possibilities… best keep it simple, all around.”

Avexis toweled herself off, and wrapped the too large coat around her body. “Why?”

Dorian sighed, “You never would understand in a million ages.” He shook his head, “I should have known when I saw those socks.  Your features are completely wasted on you.  But not today.  Today, for once, you will _shine._ ”

Avexis dubiously sank into the chair he indicated. “Dorian…” 

“Hmmm?” He lifted her hair, steam rising from it in billows as it dried in hot hands.

“I – are you sure this is wise?”

“Of course it is.” His eyes, tired and worried, met hers in the mirror.  “Amica, it’s ridiculous how little you expect from life.  If I had your opportunities and talents…” he shook his head, “Well, I wouldn’t be going back to Tevinter alone, I can tell you that.”

Avexis nodded, sighing. “It’s just… the Chantry could do things to Cullen.  Prison, or worse.”

“With Leliana in charge? Unlikely.”  Her hair was dry, and Dorian reached for his combs, working through the curling snarls.  “I think we’ll leave it down… yes?”

“I suppose not,” Avexis looked at her hands, at the green light pulsing constantly in the left. “Do you think… the mark is killing me.”

“I – know.” It seemed to take a great deal of effort for Dorian to admit it.  “All the more reason, gorgeous girl.”

“Is it fair to Cullen to-“

“You might as well ask if it’s fair not to.” Dorian took some perfumed substance and worked it through her hair, and applied more heat, then grabbed his kohl out of a silver box.  “Cullen wants you for the rest of your life, and his.  It’s not like lyrium withdrawal is known for letting people die of old age.  Or does his life expectancy make you want to-“

“Of course not,” Avexis snapped.

“Then quit being an idiot.” Dorian flicked her scar.  “Sometimes I wonder if that brand shortcircuited something in your brain.”

“You know it did.”

Dorian huffed, “You would still think so, you… Southerner.”

Avexis fell quiet, lifting up her face to allow him to apply the makeup, carefully smudging at the edges, and blending expertly into the corners of her eyelids. “Don’t put so much on that he’s afraid to touch me.”

Her friend laughed, “Oh, he’ll touch you, all right. Did you look at the dress?  Practically transparent.”

Avexis gasped, jerking away, “You didn’t!”

“Of course not.” Dorian smirked, grabbing her forehead to keep her still.  “Bull wouldn’t let me.  It is rather low in the back, though,” he sniggered a little bit.  “And yes, you will not be able to wear underthings.  They’d show.  Bull tried to get me to model it.” 

“You’re awful.” Her cheeks heated. 

“You adore me.” Dorian, quite placidly, finished.  “There! Oh, what I’d give if we had time to hire a portrait painter for the day.  You are a work of art.” 

Avexis rolled her eyes. “As long as I don’t scare him away…” 

Dorian sighed, “Honestly, if being a dragon didn’t do it, do you honestly think anything would?” 

Avexis had no response. “Am I done?” 

“…only if you’re getting married in my housecoat.” 

She had to laugh, “Get me out of this, then.” 

“I thought you’d never ask.”

 

<DT>

 

She stepped around the corner, and his breath disappeared. “Maker.”  Dorian trailed behind her, smugger than the goats at the miracle he’d managed in just a few minutes.  She wove towards him, tottering a bit on unaccustomed heels.  “You’re… you look lovely.” 

She glowed under the golden laurel, her hair loose and flowing nearly to her waist. “Does it look all right?”  She lifted the skirt, but he wasn’t looking at it.  “It’s a bit long…” 

“It’s the perfect length with the shoes,” Dorian hissed. “Quit complaining.” 

“You are breathtaking,” Cullen breathed, blinked, and held out his hand. She took it, and he tightened his fingers around her shaking ones, pulling her closer until they stood forehead to forehead. 

“I’m scared,” she breathed, glancing at Gisele before looking back at him. 

“So am I,” the woman smiled, warmly however. “It’s no small piece of heresy, I perform here today.  I wonder who will be angrier – Ferelden or Orlais?  Or the Chantry?  Or what’s left of the Templar Order?”  She shrugged, “I do what I think is best, in any case.” 

“What’s a little heresy between friends?” Dorian announced, smirking. Gisele nodded, serene, and began the opening prayer, hand out in benediction. 

“Besides,” Bull said. “My sources tell me that the Divine will be okay with this. She’s the one that decides, right?” 

“Right now, it all seems worth it,” Cullen stammered the words out, clutching tighter at her hands until he could feel the ring already around her finger. Avexis choked and stepped even closer.  Her left hand glimmered, the light from her hand refracting through the purple stones, casting strange glimmers onto the Mother’s gown. 

The Revered Mother’s words trailed off and a pregnant silence descended upon the small group, drawing out awkwardly. “This is where you make a promise,” Gisele whispered to Avexis, who swallowed. 

“Oh. I… didn’t know.”  She flushed, embarrassed.  “Cullen, I’ll love you until the end of the world,” she managed.  Her eyes met his, wide and frightened.  “And even that won’t be enough to stop me.”  Her voice firmed.  “I am yours, Cullen.  I swear it before the Maker, and His Holy Andraste.”  It wasn’t the traditional words of the wedding service, but Gisele nodded, satisfied, and turned to him. 

“And I am yours.” Cullen breathed, relieved.  “I swear to the Maker and the Holy Andraste to love you the rest of my life.”  Her lips trembled, and he raised a hand to touch them.  She kissed his palm, softly.  Bull sighed, loudly, sniffling.  Dorian coughed. 

“What the Maker has joined, let no one set asunder,” the Revered Mother finished her blessing, beaming at them both, and closed her prayer book with a sound like a thunderclap. “Congratulations,” Gisele was saying, as Avexis threw herself at Cullen. His heart roared in his ears, louder than a dragon, and he could only hold on, and then laugh, as she let herself be lifted up in his arms, face buried in his neck, now wet with tears. 

“Get me out of here,” Avexis ordered, not looking up. 

“How…” Cullen began, stroking her back, and staring helplessly at Bull. 

Bull clapped, once. “Right.  We need a distraction.  Dorian?’ 

Dorian smirked, and strode out to the edge of the arbor, where it faced Halamshiral’s courtyard, still full of nobles and others attending the Council. “Kiss me, Amatus.”  Bull bent him over backwards, and Cullen fled behind them, up the stairs to Avexis’ room as Orlesians exploded in excited titters and applause. 

The stairs disappeared like smoke under his feet. It was done.  They were man and wife, linked for the rest of their lives.  He kicked open her door – thankfully unlocked, thanks to Cole’s efforts.  The man had mastered picking locks but teaching him to lock them again proved to be a more difficult task.  

The bed was made up, and the air smelled softly of Embrium and Andraste’s Grace. A bottle of red wine with two glasses waited next to the bed.  Cullen lowered Avexis, gently, meeting her eyes, red-rimmed and wide with fear. 

“We did that.” She began. 

“We did.” He couldn’t stop smiling. 

“What have we done?”

“You regret it?”

Her mouth firmed, her eyes turned hard. “No.  I don’t.  Whatever happens next, Le Createur m’aide.” 

“I think you mean, ‘Maker help _us_.’”.  Cullen kissed her forehead.  “Are you tired?  You’ve had a long day already… I could call for a bath, or you could just go to sleep-” 

She giggled, “Cullen, are you trying to get me into bed?” 

“I…” he realized she was teasing a moment too late. “Perhaps.” 

“Good.” She was already working at his straps. 

“Madame,” he began, and she froze. 

“Merde,” her face crumpled. “But I am… I am, aren’t I?” 

“It’s all right,” Cullen tilted her face up so he could see her eyes again. “It’s all right, Avexis.” 

“We’re in so much trouble,” she whimpered. “First the Qun, and now this Fen’Harel, and I had to go do something stupid like marry you…” 

“Stupid?!” 

She laughed, a little hysterically. “Perhaps not stupid, exactly.  Just… ill-advised?  Even I know you don’t poke a dragon, and the Circle is the dragon, or maybe it’s the Chantry, or maybe they’re all dragons-” 

Cullen pressed his lips together, “Avexis, I swear to you, by the Maker and his Bride, no one will touch you. There is no Circle for you any longer.  There are no Templars.  There is no Aeronar any longer to imprison you, or me.  There is no army, or weapon that will come close enough to hurt you as long as I stand.  If they come, we run.  That’s all there is for it.” 

Her breath came short, her chest rising and falling under his hands on her shoulders, but she bent, relaxing, ever so slightly, head against his chest. “Yes.  All right.”  She buried herself in his arms, holding him tighter.  “Moi, aussi, Cullen.  They’ll never hurt you, or take you away from me, if I have to become a dragon to do it.” 

He couldn’t even laugh at that – she’d done as much, already, for him and the entire world. He rubbed her back, feeling how tense her muscles were through her gown.  He glanced out the window, the night had fallen, and the stars were appearing, one by one through the velvet night.  “Why don’t you get changed?” 

She drew back, confused. “I thought…” 

“How long has it been since you’ve climbed a trellis? Since we’ve sat on a roof?”  He turned her around, to face the window, and wrapped his arms around her waist, whispering in her ear.  “The stars are out.” 

Her voice purred against his skin. “Can we take the wine?” 

“Whatever you like.” She stepped into her bathing chamber to change, and he took the opportunity to strip himself out of his armor.  He then grabbed a throw off her bed, put the wine in a bag, and had her cloak at the ready when she stepped out.  “May I?”  He set it around her shoulders and gestured towards the open window.  “After you, Madame.” 

She glanced at him, but there was no pain in the look this time. “You’re going to keep calling me that, aren’t you?” 

“Unless you’d prefer Mistress or Lady? Or…” he swallowed, all his nerves singing with joy.  “My wife?” 

Her eyes widened, and she nodded, “The last, please.” She took a deep breath.  “To the roof, then… mon mari.”  Her voice only shook a little at the final word, and she climbed out of the window to the narrow sill, inching sideways to test the trellis with her weight.  It held, and she climbed, up, up, up, disappearing over the edge.  Cullen followed, step by step, blanket over his shoulder, and sack in his hand.  “Hurry!”  Her face appeared over the edge, hair hanging down to tickle his face, followed by her hand to help hoist him to meet her. 

“There’s no rush,” he laughed, hoisting himself up to join her. 

“I’ve heard that before,” She took the wine, pulling at the loosened cork with impatient fingers. “If I remember, it ended with you taking me on a desk.” 

“On the contrary,” he leaned in, until she looked up, so he could steal a kiss. “It began there.  Or perhaps on a rock at Haven.” 

Complex emotions warred with each other for dominance, but tenderness won. “So it did,” she sighed, and drew back, coverlet in hand.  “Help me?”  Together they spread the blanket out under the stars, and she plunked down on it, still graceful, and drank from the bottle in her hand.  Cullen settled himself more comfortably, hand behind her, so she could lean in against him.  “The stars haven’t changed since I left Orlais but they seem brighter, somehow.”  She smiled, wider.  “Everything else has changed though, hasn’t it?” 

Cullen touched her hip, and she turned, leaning in for a kiss. One touch of her lips, and the air around them heated.  She let her cloak slide to the ground behind her, as she settled the bottle at a safe distance, and quickly worked at his, releasing the ties so that it would reveal his throat.  She pressed her mouth to it, hard enough to make him groan her name. 

“Your fault,” she laughed, and he let himself fall back so that she had to bend over him, looking like a young girl, despite her age. He tucked a long strand behind her ear, and she shivered, eyes narrowing like a contented cat.  “Now you’re where I want you.” 

“I’m where I want to be,” Cullen agreed. “Now what?” 

Her eyes narrowed further, “You’re not cold? I remember a conversation about frostbite, rather long ago…” 

“In this balmy heat?” 

Her smile grew in wickedness. “Let’s see if all these people can figure out where the noises are coming from, then.  Like hide and seek with the Templars back in the Circle, only… we’re not doing anything wrong.”  She threw a leg over him, pinning him down, and gathering her hair into a loose bun at the back of her neck.  “Blessed by the Chantry, even.”  She bent to his ear.  “Does that mean the Maker wants us to have sex?  I’ll have to ask Mother Gisele.” 

Cullen cupped her ears, and drew her down, working her mouth open easily as she ground down against him. 

Now that they’d started, stopping was impossible. Clasps unfastened, laces undone, skin glowing golden in the light of the moon.  The stars were another diadem, even more lovely than the golden laurel she’d removed in her – their - room.  

Hands traced curves and old wounds alike, mouths kissed new bruises. Teeth nipped to make marks in the tenderest places they both could find, each driving to make the other ache in new and better ways.  The blanket rucked up beneath them as they explored, rough wrinkles pressing their own lines into their skin. 

Fingers twisted together as Avexis moved down his body to tease further, eyes glowing eldritch in the dim light. Her mouth reached his cock, enveloped it, and Cullen arched, crying out wordlessly in bliss and torment as she staked her claim. 

He pulled at her, sweat beading on his body in the humid night air, as she wrought magic over his begging body. Reluctantly, she yielded, only to make it worse, sinking onto him with a hitched sigh, and a murmur of something unclear in her native tongue. 

The ground fell away beneath them, they were flying among the stars, higher and higher, the only two left in the Palace, in the city, in Orlais, in the world itself. Lips found each other, centered them, shocks zinged through them, ignored in favor of other sensations.  Briefly, snow fell, melting away on heated skin. 

She rose up, arching like an ancient goddess would rise out of the ocean, dewy with exertion and lips parting with desire, and dove down again, deeper still. 

The world broke around him, exploding like Gaatlok barrels, his back arching and his fingers sinking into her thighs. She laughed, blissful, and they fell back to Thedas, gently, the world still rocking with the aftershocks. 

Cullen pulled her close, and she nestled into his shoulder, twisting a strand of hair around her finger. The too green light of the mark glowed against her skin, illuminating the shadows under her eyes.  He kissed her eyelids.  “I love you.” 

“And I, you,” she whispered. 

Beneath them, a multitude of voices queried about the noises, some laughing, some wistful, some angry, some shocked. “We can’t go down yet,” Cullen murmured.  “We’ll be found out.  You don’t think they’ll climb up to check?” 

Avexis sat up, regal in her nakedness. “Let them find out.”  She stalked over to the edge, tossing a cloak about her, a passing nod to modesty.  “Bonsoir!” She announced clearly.  “I’m sorry to disturb your evening.  But I’m sure you have better things to do than eavesdrop and speculate on the Inquisitor and her…” she paused, and then grinned, toothily, in Cullen’s direction, “husband.” 

Cullen snorted, drowning out the gasps and titters and congratulations from below. Avexis pulled out her money pouch and scattered a few coins over the edge.  “Drink to our joy, then,” she instructed, and then stalked back, kneeling next to him, and looking far too proud of herself as the now well-wishers dispersed.  “There.  Now we can watch the stars in peace.” 

“The whole Council will know by morning.” 

“That’s the point,” Avexis laid back down, and curled against him. “Everyone will know.  And tomorrow, I’ll face them all down.  No one gets to tell me how to live, any longer.” 

Cullen hummed, satisfied, and they stared up at Draconis, vaguely threatening, and then at the Servani, way off at the horizon, almost out of sight. “Are you still frightened?” 

“What’s to be scared of?” Her sarcasm was thick.  “The Qun is invading, I have an Elvhen god tracking - or directing - my steps and another one in my head whispering scary truths about the first.  Oh, and my arm is being devoured by the Fade itself.”  She shrugged and wrapped herself around him tighter.  “But I have you.  So maybe… maybe it will be all right.” 

“It has to be.” 

She shook her head. “If it comes down to protecting you or myself, you know what I’ll choose, Hot Templar.”  She found his hand, and wove her fingers through his, the ring hard against his skin.  “It’s my choice to make.” 

“Not just your choice.” 

Her eyes narrowed as she sat up to see him more clearly. “Are we going to fight about this?” 

Cullen shook his head, “I wouldn’t dream of contradicting you, Inquisitor.” 

She snorted, “That’s new.” She pressed their palms tighter together and wound her leg around his gently.  “I’ll do what I must, Cullen.” 

“And so will I.”

 


	35. Strange Reflections

The Council the next morning was exactly as expected. “Calm down, Josie.” 

“Calm down, she says,” Josie muttered, yanking on her formal uniform and straightening invisible wrinkles in the sash. “Calm down, when she’s gone out of her way to stick two fingers in the air at the very people who will shut the Inquisition down with the slightest provocation.” 

“So?” Avexis shrugged, catching Cullen’s eye. He’d already been buttoned into his uniform and was struggling to undo the collar.  Josie swatted his hands away.  “That would take the decision out of our hands, would it not?” 

“Don’t you dare fiddle with it,” she hissed at him. “Avexis, you know I’m happy for you.  I daresay, in different circumstances, the Arl and Lord Montfort would be thrilled for you as well…” 

Cullen snorted, “Unlikely.” 

Josie spoke over him, “But my job is to smooth these things over. To play the Game.  Now there is no pretense about your plans – you’ve declared your independence from… everything!”  She stepped back, sighing.  “I believe you both delight in making my job difficult.” 

“Not on purpose.” 

“I didn’t say that,” Josie automatically corrected, and then shook her head. “It’s done.  It remains to be seen if I can pick up the pieces.  If you’d only waited a week, I could have…” 

“I might not be here in a week, Josie.” Avexis lifted her hand up.  “You don’t begrudge me the time I have left?” 

“Of course not.” Josie took it, without looking at the mark.  “Personally, I’m glad you’ve worked it out.  I want to throw you a reception that will horrify both of you with its opulence.  Professionally, however, this doesn’t help the varghests waiting to draw blood in the next room.”  She turned to face them both.  “Let’s do this.  Avexis, I recommend saying as little as possible.  Allow me to lead the way, unless they ask you a question directly.” 

“Of course.” 

“They will threaten you. But their threats, for now, are largely toothless.  They are unhappy – let them be, for now.  We will remind them – subtly – that we are what stands between them and a Qun invasion.  That should sink in to Lord Montfont, at the very least, according to Varric.”  She paused, “Divine Victoria will resist their more outrageous accusations.”  She sighed again, eyes shut.  “After you, Inquisitor.” 

Avexis and Cullen filed up the aisle together, Cullen pulling out Avexis’ chair so she could sit. Various whispers of, ‘It must be true!’ and ‘What a waste,’ filtered through the noise as upwards of two dozen people settled into their places before the Council. 

The room itself was circular, but the de facto front faced the Divine’s chair, with the various representatives of the countries winging out to either side like the wings of a vengeful hawk. Avexis suppressed a shudder, comforted by Cullen’s hand on the back of her chair, warm and solid.  Josie raised her hand under the table, where Avexis could see it, but no one else. 

Leliana – Divine Victoria, Avexis corrected herself – began the proceedings. “I understand we are to wish you joy, Inquisitor.  Commander.” 

Avexis inclined her head, choosing silence. There were mutters throughout the room, some pleased, some shocked at her audacity. 

“I would have liked to be included more formally,” the Most Holy continued, “But I offer my belated blessing on you both.” 

Mutters rose to a crescendo, and Lord Montfont rose, “This is outrageous! The Inquisitor is, above all, a mage.  The Chant says-” 

“That’s enough of that,” the Divine raised her hand for silence. “We will deal with the less crucial topics of conversation later.  I am aware of the Inquisitor’s status – both as a mage, and as a former Tranquil.  She has also done more to preserve the safety of Thedas than anyone since the Hero of Ferelden.”  More whispers, but the crowd subsided, and Arl Teaghan narrowed his eyes.  “And yes, Teaghan, I am fully aware of the damage done to your lands.  But the Inquisition has continued to make both reparations and offer assistance.” 

“And the price of such assistance?” The man hissed.  Cullen grunted.  “Caer Bronach…” 

“It’s not as if anyone was using it,” the Divine raised an eyebrow at him, her voice amused. “If I remember correctly, there were bandits that the Inquisitor stopped from preying upon travelers to Denerim.” 

“Opening the way for an Inquisition invasion of Ferelden’s capital!” The man half rose, pointing his finger at Avexis.  “Her army stands poised to invade and overthrow our nation!”

Leliana laughed, “And how is my dear Alistair?” 

Arl Teaghan promptly fell back into his chair, silent. Cullen’s shoulders vibrated with suppressed humor.  Obviously Leliana had control of the situation, but Avexis couldn’t relax.  Those hints of her status… but the conversation went on.  “I am not interested in… probabilities,” Lord Montfort leaned backward, elegantly.  “I am more concerned with the threat immediate, Most Holy.  The Inquisitor has somehow brought the Qun right to the doorstep of Orlais.  No, I am not bothered by the hypothetical invasion of Ferelden by Inquisition forces,” his mouth quivered, as if in humor. 

“You wouldn’t be,” Teaghan muttered. 

“You wound me, Monsieur. Some threats endanger us all, do they not?” 

“Gentlemen,” Leliana sighed. “Let us table these discussions for a later time.  Inquisitor, would you care to explain exactly what has occurred within the Eluvians?” 

Avexis glanced at Josie, who nodded. She rose, elegantly, “It’s rather complicated, Most Holy.” 

“And now she refuses to explain,” some delegate from the Marches expostulated. 

“I didn’t say that,” Avexis snapped. “I said that it’s complicated.  We only became aware of the existence of Eluvians after the Empress’ attempted assassination.  We encountered them again at the Temple of Mythal.” 

“Is all this occurring because you’re an elf?!” The Antivan delegate shifted uncomfortably. 

“I doubt that the shape of my ears has anything to do with it,” Avexis stared him down, until he looked away.  “May I continue, Most Holy?” 

The Divine nodded, regally, eyes still amused. 

“As I was saying, the Eluvians seem to be… leading us somewhere. It’s another world, on the other side.  I intend to follow the trail to its conclusion – I think that will allow me to remove the Qunari threat.  And perhaps even give us some control over the Eluvian roads themselves.” 

“You think?” Teaghan snapped.  “I’d rather deal in hard facts.” 

“So says the man who believes that the organization advised by the King’s lover is going to overthrow his government,” snorted Montfort. 

“Say that again,” Teaghan rose, his hand on his dagger. 

“Gentlemen!” Leliana snapped.  “We are not here to cast aspersions on each other!” 

“I would say,” Avexis spoke slowly, not wanting to give anyone ideas, “That whoever controls the Eluvians, holds the upper hand.  I have seen much of Thedas through traveling through them.  I believe them to be widespread, in the most unlikely places – from ruins long abandoned, to the houses of nobility.  Who knows where they will take us next?”  She clenched her jaw, “But judging by the invading forces, I suspect they are leading me directly to the Qun base.  They have to be mustering from somewhere.  It takes them time to make it this far.  Traveling within the Eluvians seems to bother those that are not elven…” 

“Exactly,” Teaghan spat. “On one hand you tell us that the Eluvians are the key to controlling Thedas itself, and with the next breath you say that only elves can use them, even while you deny that being elven yourself has anything to do with the situation.” 

Cullen tensed next to her, but Avexis stepped forward once, never blinking. They stared at each other, stalemated. 

“You did keep the Qun threat a secret,” Lord Montfort mused, eyes bright behind his mask. 

“A fully armored Qunari warrior was found dead in Halamshiral, Lord Cyril. How he got here without alerting your guards would be worth knowing.” Avexis said blandly. “Also, may I remind you that the Empress’ lover had control of the Eluvian network before the Inquisition ever realized they existed?  How much has Orlais kept from the rest of the world?  How much of your current invasion is due to the ill treatment of your own citizens?  How many elves have fled to the Qun, rather than rejoin their ringleader at the Empress’ side?” 

Josie flinched, but Lord Montfont merely rose, “How dare,” he began. 

In the rear of the room, a door inched open, and a runner approached the Inquisition’s table. They whispered in Josie’s ear, and she nodded, and gracefully rose from her seat.  “If you would give us a moment, Most Holy…” 

“More secrets and half-truths?” Avexis’ attention was on Josie, however, and she failed to see which delegate was accusing her now. 

“Josie?” 

“There’s been an incident,” the ambassador breathed. “Gaatlok barrels, found all over the grounds.  The suspects have been detained…” 

Avexis nodded, crisp. “I’ll deal with it.”  Cullen angled himself out of his own chair.  “Commander…” 

“Go-“ Josie urged them. “Go now, before you make this worse.” 

“What is happening?” Teaghan demanded. 

“I pray you’ll excuse me,” Avexis announced clearly, and marched to the door, Cullen at her heels. The mark snapped, lapping at the nerves in her wrist, and she wrapped her right hand around it, willing it to cease.  It subsided, reluctantly. 

Behind her, the doors swung shut again, cutting off the complaints and Josie’s attempts to quell the chaos she’d left in her wake. “What a mess,” she sighed, scared to glance back. 

“It can’t be helped,” Cullen murmured, holding her shoulder and glaring at everyone they walked past. “They were always going to be difficult – but I thought Teaghan had better sense than to accuse us of staging a coup.  How absurd.  Why would the Inquisition want to depose King Alistair?” 

“It comes from sitting on the border between Orlais and Ferelden,” Avexis pursed her lips. “Not quite one, not quite the other, either.  Orlais opts to gain control, Ferelden angles to make itself safe.  And Teaghan doesn’t know me.”  She shrugged, “He can’t realize I have as little interest in invading a country as I have…”  she paused, trying to find a good analogy. 

“Thousands of wooly socks?” Cullen managed a short laugh. 

Avexis tried to look stern and failed. “You’re not helping.”  She paused outside their destination.  “This is going to be bad, you know.  If there is Gaatlok in the Winter Palace, the Inquisition is infiltrated.  If we’re infiltrated, that means viddathari.” 

“And viddathari could be anyone,” Cullen sighed, and rubbed his temples. 

She reached back and squeezed his hand, before dropping it, and throwing the doors open. “What do we have here?” 

The two suspects bickered with each other, and Avexis listened, frowning, wanting nothing more than to cuss. The human seemed benign enough, a forgettable face, certainly, but so was the elf.  It was impossible to decide, and she pinched the bridge of her nose, thinking. 

The Qun had sent a human assassin for Bull. Would they do so again?  Or would they send an elf… 

She looked at the elf – the woman seemed frail. “Lift the barrel,” she ordered.  The woman glanced at her captors and stood.  With great difficulty, she strained… 

“Stop!” Cullen expostulated.  “Gaatlok is combustive, it will explode if she…” the woman backed away, slowly. 

“She couldn’t have done this.” Avexis sighed, “Not alone, anyway.  Was there anyone else found?” 

“We’ve reports of Gaatlok found in Denerim,” Leliana stepped through the door, Divine persona laid aside for her spymaster role. 

“I don’t suppose they were working together?” Cullen murmured in her ear. 

She watched the two suspects for a moment. “I don’t think anyone is that good of an actor,” she admitted.  “Look at the elf’s body language.”  She cowered into herself, eyes flickering back and forth between her captors. 

Leliana’s laugh tinkled, “Well, I suppose I did teach you something.” She nudged her.  “What will it be, Inquisitor?” 

“Can we lock up both of them?” Avexis asked, very low indeed. 

“It will look bad, if we don’t charge them with something first,” Cullen admitted. “Transparency, Inquisitor.” 

Avexis watched them for a moment more, feeling a stab of pity for the elf – an elf in Orlais. “Lock up the human,” she ordered, finally.  “Let her go but have her watched.  If she tries to go back through the mirror…” 

“You’ll be the first to know,” Leliana turned and left, as Cullen gave the orders. The elf, surprised, watched them leave, but the human protested, flinging himself around wildly.  Avexis stopped, “Did he just call me a ‘bas’?” 

Cullen coughed, “I believe he did.” 

“He had accomplices,” Avexis tipped her head back to look at the sky. “He had to.  This… this isn’t over.  If they’ve found Gaatlok in Denerim, there will be more – everywhere.  Find it, Commander.”  She turned back, to the room where the elf woman had yet to emerge.  “I… I have to go back through the Eluvian.  This has to stop.  Now.” 

“But the Council- they’ll-“ 

“I think that saving Southern Thedas is slightly more important than worrying about what some nobles think.”  Avexis shrugged.  “It doesn’t matter if they’re grateful.  All that matters is that at the end of the day, people don’t explode.”  Her hand flared, suddenly, and she bit back a groan. 

“The mark…” 

“Doesn’t matter.” 

Cullen grabbed her by her shoulders. “Yes. It does.  Avexis, if your hand is killing you – if you’re not alive at the end of the day – do you think it matters to me if the Qun invades?” 

Avexis snorted a laugh. “Yes.”  She touched his cheek, still smooth from his morning shave.  “And I love you for it.” 

Cullen exhaled through his nose, audibly. “All right.  To work, then.” 

“Follow that elf,” Avexis instructed, backing away. “I’m going to get my armor, and change.  I’ll meet you at the mirror.”

 


	36. Magic-Resistant Arseholes

There was hardly time for a kiss, before she was through the Eluvian. Dorian, Bull and Cassandra flanked her immediately, weapons ready, with Dorian holding a small flame in his off hand, all ready to throw.  “This isn’t where the mirror led…” her words trailed off, confused. 

Gone were the towers and Elvhen mosaics. Gone were the grassy hills and quiet lakes.  Instead, they were halfway up what looked like a mountain, surrounded by dusty sandstone pillars, tipped over and covered in moss. 

“It makes me twitch, Boss,” Bull muttered, shivering. “When this is all over, I’m gonna need someone to hit me with a stick again.” 

“That’s my job, Amatus,” Dorian dismissed the flame, as there was no threat apparent, in favor of stroking his lover’s bare shoulder. “Whatever you need.”  Bull looked positively sappy until Cassandra made a disgusted noise. 

“Do these ruins remind anyone else of the Emerald Knights?” Avexis asked, low. “Where would they have found this stone?”  She traced a finger along one half-fallen wall, feeling her hand spark, but ignoring it. “We’re a long way from the Emerald Graves, I think.” 

“Could the ancient elves have brought it through the Crossroads?” Cassandra murmured. 

Avexis shrugged. It was another part of the puzzle, but it was beyond her.  “We’d better move on, in any case.”  She stepped out, trying to hide her shaking from the group, but stumbling slightly over the uneven and slippery mossy tiles.  “It’s… it’s a bit like the Temple of Mythal, as well.” 

“Not helping, Boss,” Bull muttered, and Dorian patted his shoulder again. 

They turned the corner, into a massive courtyard. “Is that…” 

“Yeah,” Bull drawled, and threw himself forward. 

Avexis tossed a barrier towards him, laying glyphs around herself and Dorian while her friend struggled to cast a Nightmare and make it stick. “Bloody magic-resistant arseholes,” she heard him scream, but then she had to Fadestep away from her carefully laid protections.  Hopefully they’d serve Dorian well, at least… 

Dizzy and stumbling as she stepped out of the Fade, she had only a second to orient herself before a blade whistled in front of her face, “Get out of here,” Cassandra ordered, baring her teeth. “Get the leader.  Or the Saarebas.  Just be-“ she grunted, deflecting the blade that threatened to dismember them both.  “Elsewhere.  Now.” 

Avexis ducked and rolled back into the Fade, stumbling and realizing that her boot laces were getting loose. She cast an ice spell towards the water feature in the middle of the courtyard and several normally surefooted Qunari slipped and fell.  She shot lightning at them, getting a little of her confidence back as she drew her staff again, and swung it around her body.  Her pulse thudded in her ears with the time of her pants as she concentrated, and then… 

A sickly purple cloud surrounded the Qunari party, several of them backing away, grey faces greyer. One screamed and turned to run.  “Dorian!”  Avexis called. 

“I have him,” Dorian laid fire traps the way some people laid out doilies for dinner parties, with a look of utter glee. “Do mind your step, Ladybird?”  He grunted, his tanned face sweating with the effort.  “I believe the lady requires your attention?” 

Avexis swung around, knocking an opponent on his ass and planting her staff in the middle of his chest, she let fly one more shock as she scanned the battlefield. 

Bull was on his back, but already sweeping an enemy’s feet out from underneath them as he climbed back to his feet. In one swift movement, he sliced them from shoulder to navel.  “Like slicing cheese,” he spat on the body.  “No, You’re dust, asshole,” he told the body, and then charged to help Cassandra. 

Alone, Cassandra had paired off with a woman holding a bag. “Get the – thing!  It’ll open the eluvian!”  She yelled at Avexis. 

She could only obey. Bull impacted the woman with a battlecry that echoed off the walls, ripping the bag free from the Qunari’s shoulder and throwing it towards Avexis like it was trash. 

Avexis shambled, her loose laces trying to trip her up, struggling to reach the bag, where a tip of stone poked out. She slipped on her own ice, cursing as she tried to get back to her feet.  Cassandra had backed the woman to the wall, her sword at her throat.  “Is it there?”  Her friend demanded. 

“Yes,” Avexis gasped, tipping the rock into her hand. 

“Good.” And Cassandra slit the woman’s throat.  The Qunari fell, gurgling. 

“Damn,” Bull swallowed. “Kadan?” 

“I’m well,” Dorian made his way from his corner, propping himself up with his staff. 

Avexis approached the mirror with the rock. It glowed, but nothing happened.  “Merde.” 

“What?” 

“It’s not what we needed!” She gestured.  “It’s not working…” 

Dorian reached the bag and rooted around. “There’s a note…” he tsked.  “Silly woman.  You never leave your passwords just laying around…” He hobbled towards Bull, “Do the honors, Amatus?  You know my qunari skills barely exceed the remedial…” 

“What?” Avexis teased, trying to catch her breath.  “There’s something you’re not good at?” 

Dorian lifted his nose in the air, “There was bound to be something. I’ll have you know that studying the qunari language is hardly a popular option in Minrathous Circles… despite it being one of the most difficult languages to master.  I, when I was enrolled, was head of my class.  No doubt I would have excelled, had I not been expelled first.” 

Cassandra snorted, “Can you read it, Bull?” 

“Yeah,” Bull admitted. “But it’s nonsense.”  He handed it to Avexis.  “Have a look, Boss.” 

Avexis breathed the word, and the mirror glowed, ready to enter. 

“It worked, at least.” Cassandra groaned, rolling her shoulder. 

Avexis, already two steps closer to the mirror, stopped. 

“Go,” Cassandra snapped. “I’m fine.  The potion is just taking a moment to work, is all.” 

Avexis nodded at her friends, and then stepped through.

Together, they stumbled at last into the darkness of torchlit moonlight. “Shitshitshit,” Bull threw out his arms and yanked all four of them into the darkness to the left of the mirror.  “This isn’t good.”  He squatted, making himself as small as possible against the grey stones.  “This is a Darvaraad, Boss… it’s a whole fucking fortress.”  Avexis leaned up against the wall, making herself as flat as possible, and listening.  “There’s no way only the four of us can take this.  We’ve got to go back and get reinforcements.” 

Abruptly, a pained whine intruded on Avexis’ consciousness. _Who?_ It screamed, and then stopped, only to begin sobbing.  _Is someone there? Help me!  No!  You should run, or they’ll get you, too!_   The voice sounded younger than Vinsomer, less sure. 

Avexis had never been so glad to hear a dragon in her life. _SHHHHHHH. I’m here now, I’m coming to save you. Hold on just a while longer?_

_I’m tied up! They’re cutting me!_

_We’re coming. We’re coming._ She tried to soothe, knowing Dorian was casting her worried looks.  _Soon. Soon._

Cassandra was just agreeing with Bull’s analysis of the situation when Avexis smiled, “Au contraire, my friends,” she grinned, white teeth flashing wickedly, until Cassandra backhanded her shoulder. 

“You shouldn’t take this so lightly. This is an entire army, Avexis!” 

Avexis just smiled wider. “There’s a dragon down there, Bull!” 

Bull started to laugh, turning it into something raspy and evil. “No way.  What by Koslun’s Ass are they doing with a dragon?”  He thought for a moment.  “Wait – that viddathari back at the Palace.  Dragon’s Breath?”  He snorted, forgetting to be quiet.  “They had to be literal.  Isn’t that just like the Qun.” 

“I wouldn’t know,” Avexis shrugged, “They’re hurting her. Get me down there and we’ll see how literally they like their Dragon’s breath.” 

“Easier said than done,” Cassandra nodded at the massive door before them. “We have to figure out how to open that first.”  She peered, eyes slitted at her onetime charge.  “Are you sure you want to do this alone?” 

“She’s a young dragon. No one fights harder than a wounded young one,” Avexis’ fingers tightened into a fist. “You should know that, Cassandra.” 

Cassandra’s eyes narrowed further still, but she nodded. “We’ll see her have her revenge then.” 

“We’re gonna save her?” Bull flicked his gaze between the two women like all his dreams had come true at once. 

Dorian sighed, “Bleeding hearts, the lot of you.” He unslung his staff silently.  “Very well.  First, the guards…” he knelt, sending power beneath the closest, murmuring a lullaby under his breath.  The Qunari’s head nodded, jerked up, and then fell to his chest, slumping against the wall. Cassandra slipped out, boots echoing against the stone, and hit the guard over the head with her pommel of her sword. 

“Go, Boss,” Bull urged, and Avexis drifted like a ghost towards the enclosure that had to contain the controls, thankful that for once her dark robes didn’t make her stand out. 

The door didn’t give under her hand. She stifled her curse.  “Un clef,” she hissed to Bull.  “Where?  Who would have it?”  Bull nodded wordlessly at the Guard Tower, and she fadestepped, soundlessly to the door, glancing back at her companions.  Bull shook his head and mimed climbing the ladder to the platform adjacent a window.  Avexis twisted herself sideways, listening to the crumpled ‘whump’ of another guard hitting the ground at the combined hands of Dorian and Cassandra. 

Could they infiltrate without killing anyone for once? 

Avexis lifted herself over the window sill, eyes widening as she took it all in. She could hear footsteps in the room below – accessed through what looked like a trapdoor hatch and another ladder.  Another one led upwards through the ceiling.  But around her… around her was a treasure trove of Elvhen artifacts.  She forgot to be cautious in her wonder, fingering a staff that made her marked hand tingle, and trying to light a Veilfire torch where it was tipped sideways. 

A guttural demand, “Who goes there,” made her fling herself back around as she gazed up the ladder, already tossing an arcane bolt at the Guard. Stunned, he slammed backwards, and she drew on all her power – more than she was used to having with her fear and alarm hammering through her ears.  “Le clef!”  She demanded.  The qunari snarled.  She spread her five fingers, letting him see the mark glow, her prisoner’s eyes widening in recognition.  “The key!”  She remembered to speak common this time.  He pressed his lips together, eyes hard as rocks. 

She didn’t want to kill him. She’d killed so many, but this… this was different.  One on one, in a lonely tower where he had no chance of help coming, whether he knew it or not.  “I don’t want to hurt you.” 

His mouth twisted at her perceived weakness and he lunged for her. She fell to the floor, twisting underneath the much larger body, trying to make an impact.  His skin was covered in something that made her mouth burn where she tried to bite him – he had her pinned down, she was helpless.  She opened her mouth to shout for Cassandra… 

And then her hand exploded. 

She watched, hazily, as her assailant blew away and hit the wall behind him, tipping sideways and falling through the open hatch to the ground floor. Outside, she could hear Bull hammering at the door, demanding to know if she was all right.  Cassandra already had one leg over the window sill by the time Avexis hoisted herself back to her feet.  “I’m fine,” she breathed, hoarse.  She limped over to the ladder, and down, “Bull, be quiet.  I’m getting the key.”  The Qunari was bleeding from his head, but this time, she didn’t feel sorry for hurting him. 

Silently, she unlocked the door, and Bull was leaning up against the doorframe. “You look worse for wear.  Is Cullen going to skin me alive and turn me into a new coat?”  He nodded at the guard.  “Or should we take back his?” 

“No.” She managed a tight smile.  “I took care of him.”  She shuddered and shook her head.  “Did you get them all?  Did they have a key?” 

“Yup,” Bull shouldered his way in, and Dorian followed, tsking gently at a few scrapes she hadn’t even realized were there. “Takes two keys to work the mechanics, though.  Found a diagram.”  She held up the one that let her through the door.  “Nah.  It’ll be bigger.  Have a look around.” 

There was one of the odd Elvhen devices for measuring the Fade locked behind a grate on the ground floor. Avexis, self-consciously opened it and activated it with a touch.  Then she turned back to the ladders, and made her way to the second floor, and then the third. 

As she lifted the hatch, she came nose to nose with a statue of Fen’Harel, it’s eyes tight and judging on her presence. “Merde,” she cursed, and finished climbing.  Around her were portraits of Elvhen goddesses and gods – “The Evanuris,” she recognized, touching them gently.  “Why were they collecting these?” 

“For the same reason the Qun was thick as flies in elven ruins, Boss.” Bull lifted himself free of the hatch.  “Crazy.  Never seen the Qun act like this.  Makes no sense.”  He grunted.  “I hate this – not knowing thing.” 

“You don’t regret leaving,” Dorian’s voice drifted upwards, and he propped himself on the top rung, eying Bull as if he thought that he’d strip to a loincloth in the next minute. “Do you?” 

“Course not,” Bull offered freely. “Just… I’d know stuff, you know?  I _like_ knowing stuff.” 

Avexis managed a laugh, and then she saw it. “There, is that the key?”  She stepped towards it, glancing out the balcony.  Another portrait, and a book… leaving the key behind, she picked up the book instead.  She couldn’t read it.  Frustrated, she handed it to Bull. 

“Shit,” Bull blinked. “Boss, this is about that guy again.” 

It finally clicked, “Fen’Harel,” she breathed, seeing the connection. “Every single thing in here…” she picked up a dagger, labeled clearly, “The Fang of Fen’Harel.”  There was an amulet, tagged ‘The Tooth of Fen’Harel.’  She looked at Dorian.  “Why Fen’Harel?” 

“They know something,” Dorian nearly whispering. “Amata…” 

She set the amulet down, more gently than she intended. “What’s going on?  Why are they collecting these things, when…” she closed her eyes.  “The mirrors.  They’re activating the mirrors.”  Opening her eyes, she shook her head.  “Why didn’t I see it before?” 

“The door,” Cassandra reminded her, voice harsh. “Concentrate.” 

“Right,” Avexis backed away. “Show me the diagram, Bull.”  She lifted her chin, a small, wicked smile playing upon her lips.  “We’ve got an Atashii to rescue.”


	37. Down the Dragon's Den

If there was one thing Avexis admired about the Qunari, it was their precision. The door opened without trouble, exactly the way the diagram that Bull provided said it would. 

The round door led deep into the heart of the fortress, and Avexis found herself wishing that she’d brought Sera or Cole along for their stealth skills. As it was, she was closest they had to someone who could blend into the shadows, using Fadecloak.  

Dodging the patrols in the halls, Avexis nearly laughed, her thoughts tinged with hysteria, while thinking about early games of hide and seek in the Circle, where her and her friends hid from Enchanters and Templars. This had a similar feel – except that this time, she’d be very dead if she were caught.  As the patrols passed, she waved her friends forward, ducking into alcoves as they went.  For now, they were in someone’s office, someone called the Viddasala, by the letters.  This Viddasala had a Saarebas – a mage with a name, strangely enough – at her beck and call.  Were they loyal to her?  There was no way to know… and they couldn’t risk it. 

The lesser Saarebas so far had nearly been the death of all of them. If this one was stronger yet… 

“Do the children in the Qun play hide and seek?” She asked Bull. 

“Sort of. Disguised as a training game.  Shows who is suited to be a Tallis, or even a scout,” Bull huddled in the corner – the hardest of them to hide due to size.  “Why’d you ask?” 

“No reason,” Avexis peeked out around the door. The dragon’s voice was getting louder.  “I think we’re almost there, now.”  She ducked back in, “Are you ready?” 

“Sure,” Bull straightened. He looked tired, worn down.  “Look, Boss, I ought to tell you.  Viddasala-“he paused.  “She was in charge of the Ben-Hasserath.” 

“So… we’re going to kill your boss?” 

“Former boss, but yeah.” He rubbed his head between his horns.  “Yeah, we are.  Just – she might be overconfident about my loyalty, you know?  Maybe we can use that?” 

“I’d rather not,” Avexis’ voice was crisp. “Unless you’re having second thoughts?” 

“Course not!” Bull’s shoulders braced, and he drew his axe.  “Let’s just do this.  Viddasala’s got this coming. We’ll free the Atashii, and all that.  It’s gonna be a good day, right?” 

Dorian eyed him but said nothing. Avexis opened the door wide – there was no point hiding any longer.  “It’s going to be a very good day, Bull.”  This time, she let her voice gentle. _We’re here, Atashii._ She felt the dragon’s confusion and excitement. 

_That’s what the lady calls me. How did you know?_

_What lady?_

_The one that feeds me. She’s nicer than the rest.  She makes the cuts stop hurting._

_We’re going to have to fight them. Can you help?_

_YES!_

Avexis charged down the corridor, Bull right behind her, until they passed through an arch leading to something like a courtyard. In the center was a beautiful green dragon with leopard-like spots in darker purple streaking across her scales. Half-healed cuts criss-crossed her legs, but they weren’t bleeding.  Before her, she saw a grated door, with levers.  On the tiled floor were grooved glyphs, from which dotted Veilfire, blocking the dragon from even approaching the portcullis.  “Damn it, more Qun mechanisms?  How do we break through this?” 

“There’ll be wheels, Boss,” Bull wheedled, while Atashii stomped in her shackles across the room, her mental voice equally excited and scared. “Controls… we can’t let that stop us now.  Look… she’s hurting.”  Bull shuddered.  “She’s so pretty.  Ain’t she pretty, Dorian?” 

“Oh yes. Just lovely.”  Dorian muttered, rolling his eyes. 

“I’ll get the fire moved, then. You protect the dragon!”  Avexis ran for the controls, shifting them until they jammed.  “Dorian!  That cart!  It’s blocking the way…” 

An explosion blasted hot air into her face, lasting a few long seconds where she was forced to shield her face. 

Too long – an arrow pierced her hip, and she screamed in pain. Atashii echoed it, screaming her anger at her attackers, and stunning them.  _They hurt you, too! I’m going to kill them!_

Instead of fire spouting from her lips, a geyser of poison erupted, eating away at the Qunari before her, and making her protectors back away in alarm. Avexis rushed to reassure her.  _I’m fine, Atashii. Just an arrow._

_But you hurt?_

_I’ll heal. It’s all right.  Save your strength.  I’m going to open the gate, and you’re going to fly out of here._

_You’ll come, too?_

_I… can’t. I have business here.  You just get safe.  Fly far away.  As far as you can manage. Kill as many as you like on the way out. I won’t mind._ With a final wrench of her arms, sending another stab of pain into her hip, she aligned the fire away from the gate.  “Bull!  The lever!” 

“On it!” Bull ran for the control, using his entire body weight to pin it down.  Dorian, surrounded by Qunari, braced himself, throwing fire left and right to hold them back.  “There’s a second one!” 

Cassandra cursed fluently in Nevarran, and ran for the door. “I need help, here!”  Dorian panicked, and fire bloomed outwards from his body.  “Avexis!  Help!  Bull!” 

Avexis fadestepped down the steps, allowing lightning to rise inside her body. Glowing with the power of a hundred thunderstorms she let it go – arcing towards Dorian’s attackers.  Screams overwhelmed the sound of them hitting the ground as the storm waged around her, But to the left, the Viddasala yelled, “Hissrad!  Rejoin us!” 

“NOT A CHANCE – MA’AM!” Bull laughed his head off, just as Cassandra managed to work the second lever downwards. 

Frustrated, the Viddasala ran for a small door left ajar in the corner. “There’s another eluvian!”  Dorian called out, desperate. 

Avexis glanced, but Atashii’s body blocked her view. “Go,” she whispered aloud to the dragon. 

_Will I see you again?_

_I don’t know. Just be safe._

_I will. You should, too.  They’re mean!_ And with that the glorious green dragon ran at full speed for the door, limping slightly.  Once past the portcullis, she launched, spitting acid and poison around her at the confused guards as she awkwardly spread her still-developing wings and slanted into the windy dawn.  She blocked out the rising sun as she flew away. 

Avexis collapsed – just for a moment, but Cassandra came over and hauled her back up to her feet. “Did we do the right thing?” 

Cassandra eyed the guards, slowing dissolving in pools of acid and blood. “She was a formidable ally,” the warrior said stiffly.  “I cannot regret saving her life.  She has repaid us in full.  There were at least another fifteen guards on the bridge.  As it is… we’re free to follow the Viddasala.”  She turned to face Bull, and another disgusted noise left her lips.  “For the Maker’s sake…” 

Avexis turned to see Dorian and Bull wrapped around each other like a snake on a tree. She giggled.  “C’est amour, Cassandra. If Rylen were here, you’d be doing the same.” 

Cassandra let the bare traces of a smile turn up her lips. “Yes, I suppose so.”  She flushed.  “It is strange, isn’t it, how battle can…” 

Avexis laughed. “One of the mysteries of the world.”  She winked, even while she turned towards the Eluvian.  “If I had Cullen here, you can bet I’d have shoved him up against a door.”  She raised her voice, “Lovely as it is to see the display of affection, perhaps we should be chasing the Viddasala?”  She limped forward, hearing Cassandra gasp, “Avexis, your leg!” 

“It’s just an arrow,” she looked down. The haft had broken partially off at some point.  “I’ll survive.” 

“We have to take it out.” 

“After,” Avexis promised, but stopped walking. “I’m a bit like Atashii, aren’t I?” 

“What are you talking about?” Cassandra snapped. 

“The Circle, Frenic… they used me, tried to chain me. I lashed out, as a child.  I scared people.  But…” she looked up at the ceiling.  “But people kept trying to save me.  Sometimes I hurt them, too.  Like Galyan.”  Avexis shivered.  “I don’t want to hurt people with my magic any more, Cassandra.  But I won’t be tied up any longer, either.” 

“I won’t allow it, not after this is done,” her friend promised. Then she yanked the arrow from Avexis’ hip with no warning.  She inspected the tip.  “Hmmm, it may have been poisoned.” 

With shaking hands Avexis downed a potion and then smashed the empty bottle on the stones. “I’ll be fine.” 

“You’d better be. This day is far from over.” 

Dorian approached, already adjusting his scarf to cover red blotches on his neck. Avexis eyed him, “Do you honestly think the Viddasala is going to judge you for hickies and lovebites, Dorian?” 

He made a face at her, outwardly composed, while Bull chuckled. “You should show them off, Kadan.  Let her see.  I’d be proud to claim you in front of her like that.” 

“Red and purple clash with my ensemble,’” Dorian retorted. “Besides, I’d prefer to keep my private life just that, thank you.” 

Bull snorted in disbelief. “You keep telling yourself that, and I’ll keep messing you up so everyone knows.  Sound like a plan?”  Dorian flushed in delight. 

Cassandra let out her third disgusted noise of the day. “The Eluvian?” 

“After you,” Avexis sighed, and waved them through. “Brace yourselves.  I have… a bad feeling about what comes next.”

 


	38. Wolf Meets Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My day has sucked, so I'm breaking my rule of never posting on weekends.

Another ruin appeared before them as she pushed through the mirror, wavering and unclear. A set of ruined looking stairs led upwards into the distance, and in the middle of the moss-riddled courtyard were what looked like statues.  Oddly posed, twisted sort of statues… 

As she emerged, the picture cleared, and she saw – fighting. More fighting.  Her muscles ached, her hand pulsed with misery like fire shooting up her arm.  Her tired eyes traced the field, trying to find a place to jump in, to take control of the battle.  Bull was already slinging down his weapon when she found something – someone – unexpected. 

“Is that…” Cassandra’s voice was awful, threatening in a way Avexis didn’t like to hear. 

“Solas?” Avexis asked, her voice shrill to her own ears.  “What is he doing here?” With a gesture, a new statue appeared on the field. 

The final copper dropped after the question was out, but she didn’t have time to marvel. A blast of pure magic knocked her off her feet, Cassandra’s frustrated yelling coming from a great distance as she struggled to regain her footing.  She could see Dorian struggling to cast, but the spells bounced off his opponent’s shield like arrows off metal. 

Her eyes focused back on the Eluvian. With a touch, Solas seemed to turn a Ben-Hasserath into stone.  Her breath caught in her lungs.  Where had this power been when he was with the Inquisition?  She watched him turn another to stone, and then another, and then, meeting her eyes with a contemptuous lift of the eyebrows, slip through the Eluvian like walking through a door. 

And then her hand exploded. 

The statues burst into rock shrapnel, and the Saarebas’ barrier fell with the impact. With a triumphant yell, Cassandra drew her sword and charged, dispelling whatever other protections he was trying to conjure.  Avexis struggled to her feet, and then, almost as soon, slammed her fist into the ground as it attempted to overwhelm her again with raw magical power. 

The Saarebas flew backwards, hitting a halfwall by the Eluvian they had entered from. A trickle of blood ran down his mouth. 

And Avexis did it again, on purpose this time. 

His eyes rolled back in his head, and she felt a strange, exuberant burst of joy in her power. Reveling in it for a moment, she laughed, and did it again. 

“Avexis?” Cassandra had sheathed her sword. “Your…” 

Her hand exploded, faster this time, and she fell to her knees with the pain, a dozen small cuts opening on her body. “I have to get to Solas,” she panted.  “Help…” 

Cassandra lifted her, as Dorian tilted a potion into her mouth. “Bull…” 

Bull lifted her, but Avexis screamed, “Don’t touch me! Keep away, the mark…” 

Bull dropped her to the ground with a thud, and she ran away from her friends, left them behind, slamming her now open palm into the earth to keep the magic away from them, triggering a small rock slide as she climbed. “Solas… Solas will stop it,” she whimpered, and stumbled up the stairs, stopping twice more to discharge the power. 

Stairs crumbled beneath her palm, but she scrambled upwards, and fell through the mirror. 

Only to find herself frozen on the other side, unable to move. “Solas,” she grated out through clenched teeth.  “Help?” 

He raised an eyebrow, “Remarkable,” he laughed a little, wry. “Excuse the pun.  But apparently, when you took the mark from my orb, you gained a measure of resistance to certain of my abilities.”  He bent before her.  “You should be petrified.  Are you afraid, Inquisitor?” 

“I am not.” Avexis shook herself free.  Solas took a step back.  “Mythal tried this as well.” 

“Ah, a little different, but you see…” Solas’ eyes glowed, and she froze again. “I can do that as well.”  He chuckled again.  “Well.  I seem to be full of puns today.  The lowest form of humor, I am told, but they serve to amuse, don’t they?” 

“How can you…” Avexis struggled to get free, as the voices from the Well rose in her head, clamoring with advice. 

“Mythal and I are old friends.” Solas tilted his head.  “Closer now than before.”  His eyes glowed that Veilfire blue again, and her body racked with pain. 

The voices whispered, _You have a part of me as well,_ Mythal’s voice grated in her mind and unbidden, a memory of a dragon flashed across her mind. _You can resist, my daughter._

“I understand,” Avexis morphed into a dragon. She still couldn’t move, but she felt better, stronger for it. 

Solas laughed again. “You can fight back.  I remain impressed, Inquisitor.  I would not have thought it possible.  It must be your own gifts aiding you.  I thought Mythal’s control of her acolytes complete.  It appears I am wrong again.” 

_“We don’t have to be on opposite sides, Fen’Harel.”_

“So you’ve figured that out, as well?” He huffed.  “I left you enough clues.” 

_“What are you going to do?”_

He shrugged, eyes sad. “I’m going to do the only thing I can.  I awoke, and the world was in flames.  I awoke to a nightmare, a world worse than how I left it.  I will tear down the Veil, and let the world perish.”  He paused, “I am sorry, but I have to save the People.” 

Avexis spat, lightning flying from her lips. Solas easily sidestepped it.  “Amazing.”  He peered at her.  “You truly have exceptional gifts.  Such a waste.”  He shrugged, and Avexis found herself able to move.  “Still, you aren’t the only one capable of taking another form.  It’s… been a while.  Perhaps it is time…” 

She watched, stunned, as the wolf pelt across his shoulder seemed to spread, until it covered his body, now shaggy with rough fur. He grew larger yet, muscles bunching under his skin, hair sprouting from nowhere.  “Inquisitor,” he could still use his voice, though it was rougher.  His head looked up towards her, and six eyes glowed at her with eldritch light.  “I am pleased to introduce you to the Dread Wolf.”  He made a mocking bow with his front paws. 

Avexis didn’t bother trying to curtsey, “Charmed, I’m sure.” Her voice was there as well, and not as shaky as she feared. 

“Excellent!” The Wolf seemed to rejoice.  “What else can you do?” 

The voices whispered to her again, and she couldn’t help but smile, as much as a dragon could. “This.”

She thought like a wolf, and he froze, his eyes suddenly far more mortal. “Can you not move, Fen’Harel?” 

“How…” he breathed, but his eyes were alight with humor. “Avexis, you surprise me.” 

“I wasn’t sure it would work,” she admitted, breathing shallowly, and then transformed, back into herself, catching herself from falling with her marked hand. 

Solas appeared to fold back in, towards himself, and when he looked up, was elven once more, impeccably armored, with a wolfpelt over one shoulder. “We are at an impasse, it seems.”  His eyes gleamed.  “How unexpected.” 

Avexis didn’t reply. 

“You understand so little. Don’t you see what the world could be like?”  Solas waved his staff wide, displaying the beauty all around them.  “You are like me, however much you like to pretend.”  He judged her, touching his chin.  “Join us.” 

“What?!” 

“Your powers verge on the powers of the Elvhen. With the Well on your side, and your unique gifts – we can free my People.  They could be your People.  You would have a family, beyond your wildest imaginings.  A true daughter of Flemeth.” 

“In return for helping you destroy the world?” 

“You would survive.” Solas gestured, and the reflection from the mirror of Halamshiral appeared where there had just been quavery glass before.  Two guards, one elven and one human, argued silently with Leliana looking on from across the still bloodstained floor.  “Is this such a wonderful thing to preserve?  Why would you want to live as something lesser than you could be?” 

“It’s not that I don’t think something needs to be done,” Avexis began, not dropping one bit of concentration, ready to regain control as soon as he allowed it. 

“But,” Solas laughed, harshly. “But you won’t.” 

“What will happen to everyone else?” Avexis’ voice cracked.  She held up her hand, wedding ring displayed.  “The news might not have reached the mighty Fen’Harel.  Cullen and I were married yesterday.” Was it only yesterday?  It seemed like so much longer...

His face didn’t change, “That changes nothing. For the Elvhen, it’s a dalliance of a moment."

“It changes everything,” Avexis contradicted, stepping towards him as a barrier rose around her, stronger than she’d ever managed before. “I love him.  He loves me.  That’s eternal, no matter how long we live.  There’s no more Circles, no more mage prisons, no more Templars.  No more hiding what we are to each other.  We’re going to disband the Inquisition, Solas.” 

“And you believe you’ll be allowed?” He tilted his head, thoughtfully.  “You do believe it.” 

“I won’t let the institution I built be used for evil. Leliana will agree.” 

He shook his head, “You don’t understand. Still, you don’t understand.  You’re nothing like them.  Humans are like bugs – their lives over in an instant, compared to the immortality of the Elvhen.” 

“I don’t want to live forever.” Avexis’ hand pricked, and she pulled it into a fist.  “All I ask is that what I have left, I can live with the man I love.” 

“A pretty thought.” Solas stretched out his hand.  The mark pricked, again, and then pulled, from deep within her.  She collapsed, overwhelmed with the feeling of her hand trying to turn itself inside out.  “It’s killing you.  You have days, at most.” 

“You could stop it, you did before,” she gasped. “Please, Solas…” 

“I could, if you would join us.” 

“I can’t.” Her eyes were full of tears.  “I made a promise, before the Maker and Andraste.  I won’t break my word!” 

“Then you will die.” Solas shook his head.  “I regret what I must do.  I meant what I said before – you have a unique spirit.  It will be a shame to lose it before its time.”  He backed away. “I do what I must, Inquisitor.  I suggest you do the same.” 

He disappeared into the ripples of the mirror, as Avexis struggled to her feet. As she touched the mirror, it firmed.  Frustrated, she spread her left hand over the glass, still sparking with dangerous power, and she was pulled through. 

She fell out the other side, into Bull’s arms. “Whoa there, Boss!” 

She screamed, her hand already powering up for another go. “Bull!  Take it off!” 

“What?” 

“My hand…” she scrambled to get away from him. “My whole arm… it has to be removed…”  She pressed it into the ground, and the earth rippling away from her as she pressed, her friends rocking on their usually steady feet.  “Please!” 

“Shitshitshit,” Bull cursed. “Cassandra… dispel it?” 

“Done,” the woman’s words were crisp, if pained. “Avexis…” 

“Just do it! It’s killing me!”  Cassandra knelt, ripping her leather away at the shoulder seam.  It glowed sickly Fade Green.  “See?” 

“But Solas…” 

“Wouldn’t help. Please!” 

Cassandra touched her palm to the mark, and Avexis flinched, but a cool numbness spread to her shoulder. “Thank you…” 

Dorian stepped up, whipping off one of his many belts and binding it in a tourniquet above her elbow. Another moment and a sheath of ice formed from her upper arm to her wrist.  “Are you sure, my friend?”  His eyes were full of tears. 

“Please…” she could barely hear her own voice, but she formed the words, regardless.

Bull swung back and released. With a flash of light and pain, Avexis screamed, and knew no more. 


	39. Find Me In the Fade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yes, that is a Howl's Moving Castle Reference.
> 
> TW for blood and injury.

When Bull stepped through the Eluvian, Avexis unconscious in his arms, Cullen had been pacing before it for about a half hour, and snapping at various soldiers for two hours before that. Recruit had herded him to the mirror, somehow managing to get him to follow her, even though she couldn’t speak.  The dog backed away at the new occupant, whining.  “Bull, what…” his color drained from his face instantly.  “Maker!  How…” he saw Avexis’ robes, bloody and torn.  “Sweet Maker, no!” 

“The mark was eating her alive.” Dorian snapped.  “We had to do something.” 

Cullen’s knees nearly buckled, “She’s not…” 

“Not yet,” Cassandra’s crisp tones brooked no nonsense. “We did what we had to, and then what we could.” 

Cullen swallowed, the scent of iron-rich blood rising around them all suddenly understandable. “You just… cut off her arm?

“The Boss asked us to.” Bull held her out towards him.  “She needs a healer.  Bad.  And you.”  Cullen took her automatically, careful of her wound.  Bull touched a bloody hand to his missing eye.  “Gonna be a shock when she wakes up?” 

“Sweet Andraste have mercy on her,” Cullen’s face crumpled. “But she _will_ wake up?” 

“If I can help it, yes,” Cassandra marched towards the exit. 

“Where are you going?” Dorian called. 

“To fetch a healer! Get her to her rooms and away from…” Cassandra’s disgusted noise echoed backwards.  “Get away from here, you vultures!”  There were murmured gasps from somewhere beyond the door. 

“Holy Andraste spare her,” Cullen prayed again, as he stumbled from the room, to the sound of Bull shouting at the gathered assembly hoping to get a peek at the Eluvian and more, as he pressed them backwards, trying to clear a path. Dorian lit up his fingers with flame, a more subtle threat, but very effective as the masses of Orlesians backed away. 

“Get out of the way!” Cullen shouldered his way through the arguing crowd, and up the stairs to their room, laying Avexis on the bed.  He pulled the fabric of what remained of her armor away from the wound, noting Dorian’s clumsy attempt to limit blood loss. 

“I… I tried to cauterize it.” Dorian and Bull had slipped in behind him. 

“Thank you,” Cullen managed not to retch at the thought.

“I… also have something for you,” Dorian managed. “Here…. She’ll want this, when she wakes up.”  His hands, still slippery with blood – Avexis’ blood - dropped a small ring into his hands.  “I… knew she’d miss it.” 

“Will she…” Cullen attempted to ask, even while knowing Dorian couldn’t give him an answer, clutched the ring in his fist. 

The door opened again, before he could finish, admitting Cassandra. Cullen lifted his head to look at her, but she merely glared at them both equally, and opened the door wider, where a mage stepped through, poised and, as always, flawless. 

“Well, what’s all this?” Vivienne’s nostrils flared at the scent of blood still heavy in the air.  “Honestly, Dorian, I expected better.  It’s a wonder she’s not…” she bent to Avexis’ body, feeling for a pulse.  “Well, she’s not dead yet.  Not for lack of trying, judging by the amount of _fluids_ , you are still sporting…”  She shuddered, but dutifully gathered mana, face calm as an ice sheet, and cast, smooth healing stretching out to Avexis’ arm, where something bony jutted.  Cullen turned away, not wanting to think about it.  “What a mess.  You didn’t even bother to save the joint, Bull.” 

“Sorry, ma’am. The magic was above the elbow.  Almost to the shoulder.” 

“At least you keep your axe sharp, and clean. Well, cleaner than it used to be, after our little talk.  I’ll fix what damage I can, and treat the infection,” her voice was as crisp and professional as always.  “Would one of you get me some hot water and clean cloth?”  Vivienne’s eyes tracked to Cullen.  “You married her.” 

“I’m not leaving.” The hair on Cullen’s neck rose, and the dog at his side growled at the person threatening her master. 

Her laugh, high and false, grated against his back teeth. “Of course not.  Cassandra will do as an errand-boy.  An excellent job for her.  But we will need a cot for you.  You’ll stay with her, naturally, and I’ll find an alchemist to make a potion to help with the pain.” 

Dorian sniffled, and Bull put a hand on his shoulder. 

“Do pull yourself together, Dorian,” Vivienne’s voice chastised. “She’s in no danger now, except from her own exceptional shortsightedness.”  Her magic fell away, dimming to a bare glow at the end of the arm, now covered by a small amount of flesh.  “Bone is never quite as easy to seal as a flesh wound, but it will heal, in time.  She should sleep, for now.  I’ve seen to that.” 

“You have my thanks,” Cullen began. 

The older mage’s eyes were calculating and calm in a way that the situation didn’t warrant. “Just remember my kindness when the Council reconvenes,” Vivienne stood, shaking her skirts, and the blood just flaked off, like shedding a miracle.  “Someone should.”  She straightened and swept out of the room, snapping orders to the people just beyond.  They, of course, all obeyed Madame de Fer, dispersing into the Palace like so many shadows. 

Cullen curled his hand in his wife’s remaining one and pressed it against his forehead. 

All they could do now is wait. Cassandra returned with an alchemist and left for a cot and a few extra chairs that the room couldn’t provide, fighting her own worry with usefulness.  Messengers came, from the Empress and Marquesse, from ambassadors, and left without more than a barked, ‘No change’ from Bull, who was on door duty.  Dorian paced, restless, Bull watching him bustle around pointlessly.  Cassandra found additional tasks to take her from the room, coming back with better pillows, or a vase of roses, even once, with a book, which she promptly set aside, snarling at her inability to focus. 

Cole came, and left, looking sad at his inability to help. 

Cullen fell asleep on his knees next to his Ladybird’s bed, waking only when Dorian insisted on changing the bandages, or when it was time to administer another potion for the pain. He woke himself a million times with a jerk, refusing to retire to the cot.  Even a few feet seemed too far away.  

Eventually Dorian and Bull took it, the wooden frame creaking with their combined weight, but somehow managing not to collapse as the mage curled up on the larger man’s chest, whimpering in his sleep, only to be comforted with a rubbing hand. 

Cullen turned away when he found himself envying them. 

“You should sleep.” Cassandra said it like an order. 

“No. If she wakes…” his breath caught, “When she wakes, I want her to see me.” 

Cassandra refrained from further comment after that, drifting off in her own chair, her head tilted back at an unhealthy angle. 

Rylen peeked in for a moment, his face tense, but relaxing a modicum when he saw Cassandra sleeping. He nodded at Cullen, and mouthed, _no change?_ Cullen shook his head, and Rylen’s face fell, and his friend retreated back behind the door.

Cullen’s mind drifted, half awake – at first back to the inn in Redcliffe, back further to the torture at Kinloch, and then his eyes snapped open. “Bull, Dorian – get off the cot.” 

Cassandra leapt to awake in a moment, her sword already half drawn. 

“Is she sleeping?” he demanded of Dorian. 

“Yes…” 

“I need to sleep. NOW.” 

Dorian shook his head, “I have a draught for her…” he looked confused, “but…” 

Cullen took it and downed the whole bottle in a moment, his head already spinning as he grabbed for the side of the cot Bull had vacated, tipping it towards him precariously. “I’m going to try to find her.  She might be looking… for me.” 

Dorian eyes popped, “You’re not a soporati.” His voice was gentle.  “You’re not even a mage.  And she might have lost the ability with the mark…” 

“I- have to try.” Cullen felt Bull catch him and lower him to the cot gently, pulling his feet upwards and straightening his limbs as the potion drew him under, unnaturally fast.

“Sweet Dreams, Commander.”

 

<DT>

 

Avexis wandered, pointlessly, through mirror after mirror, her friends gone, knowing that something was after her. She tripped, her left side unbalanced, and not willing to move to catch her.  She crumpled, nearly defeated, to her knees, looking upward where the Black City – no closer than ever, despite all her travels – hung upside down like a spider. 

She struggled back to her feet, depending on her right hand this time for the necessary leverage. She wasn’t sure what was happening, but she’d been in the Fade before, and emerged alive.  She could – would – do it again. 

Cullen was waiting. She had to. 

As if thinking about him summoned him, she saw a bubble shimmer into existence. She left the Eluvian behind her, wishing she had a staff to support her.

She glanced at her left arm, noting that for some reason it was bleeding green into the ether of the Fade, her mind unusually detached at the thought. It ached, bonedeep, but she ignored it, pressing on to the shimmering globe of what must be Cullen’s dream prison.

His voice echoed all around her, laughing, sometimes, taunting others, but she knew that wasn’t him. He wouldn’t be so cruel.  Those were the little fears, trying to get through to her.  Cullen would be where she always found him.

A form was there, but it was shifting in and out – not anywhere as clear as she’d found him before… she tried her voice, to find it crackling and strained, as if she’d been screaming. “Cullen?”  She touched the bubble, and it popped, mana dust floating slowly away upwards towards the Black City.  “Cullen!”

His head rose, slowly, his haggard face and sunken eyes giving way to relief. “Ladybird.  You’re… alive?”

“I think so?” She sat down, careful not to touch him. He wasn’t always receptive to touch after this dream.  “You should wake up.  You look awful.”

“So should you,” he rubbed his face with one hand, and reached out for her with the other. “Please?  I can’t… I can’t manage without you.  Not now.”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t you remember?”

 A flash of something flickered through her mind. “Solas.  I remember… Solas,” she glanced down at her arm, and the dripping magic had turned red with her lifeblood.  “Oh.”  Her dreamself flickered.  “They… Bull did it, then?”

 “Wake up, Ladybird,” Cullen whispered, his hand shifting into nothing from between her fingers. “I need you.”

 Avexis tightened her fingers, but he was already gone. She looked around her, and stood, her hair rising angrily with her inner storm.  “That’s quite enough,” her voice cracked like the lightning she threw so easily.  “I’m leaving!”  She glared at her arm, and it reformed, transparent, but functional.  She willed a staff into existence in the hand Cullen’s had so recently warmed, and the power of the focus flooded her.  “You’d do best to stay out of my way,” she threatened anything that might be listening, her words sharp as the curved blade.  She turned around and headed straight to the mirror she’d just come from and glared at it.

 “You’re going to take me where I want to go,” she ordered it. It glowed, blue, just like Mythal’s, and she stepped through.


	40. Demands and Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long, but we are actually wrapping up the whole thing today.
> 
> Expect three chapters in the next half hour or less.
> 
> Iduna and I love you all, and we thank you for coming along on our little 'Avexis is the Inquisitor' AU.

Avexis regained consciousness slowly. Her side felt light, unbalanced, and she struggled to sit up.  Cool sheets surrounded her, but the bed was empty, where Cullen… her left arm pressed against the bed, and she cried out, as there was no hand to support it.

In an instant, Cullen was there, up from nowhere next to the bed. “Avexis,” his eyes were just as sunken as her dream’s.

“You look dreadful,” she croaked. She tried to lift her left hand to her sore throat, but it… “Oh.”  She braced herself, trying to breathe through the shock.  “Where are we?”

“Still at Halamshiral,” his smile was sad. “How… are you?”

With the question, a million pains flooded her consciousness, as if her very nerves were angry at the abuses she’d put them through.  She whimpered, “Everything hurts.”

“Bull… took the mark.” The phrasing was odd.

“My arm, you mean.” She shrugged, and that hurt too, sharp stabs of pain that made her want to cry out.  “Who healed it?”

“Vivienne. As much as she could, in any case.  Expecting future favors, as you can well imagine.”  Cullen’s lip curled, but he bent away to lift a glass with water in it.  “Vivienne can wish for our favors in one hand and piss in the other.  I know which will fill up faster.   Drink?”

His phrasing made her want to laugh, but she was afraid to hurt again. “Merci,” her voice rasped, and she sipped, slowly.

“So… what happened?” Cullen asked, slowly, but quickly rushed in, “You don’t have to tell me, love…”

“Don’t be silly. Of course I do.  It’s important, to the Council and the Inquisition.”  She pulled her head away from the glass, and he set it on the tray, gently.  “Where do I even start?”  She was silent for a moment, watching her husband and Commander wait patiently while she configured her thoughts.  “Solas isn’t just Solas.  He’s Fen’Harel, from the Dalish stories.  Mythal is with Solas, somehow.  He… caught me, but he didn’t figure on my other gifts.  I broke loose.  He can change into a wolf – the Dread Wolf - but I can change into a dragon.  I can also control him, at least when he’s in wolf form.  I think I could do it anyway, with enough lyrium?”  She wanted to shrug again, but it hurt too much.  “What is the phrase in chess?  Stalemate?”

Cullen nodded, eyes sad. “What then?  What are his goals?”

“I think… I think that he’s going to tear down the Veil. He has some idea about restoring Elvhenan, or the Elvhen people.  He asked me to join him,” Cullen’s lips pressed together, so she rushed on, “and I refused.  He couldn’t promise that not everyone would die.  So… he left me to die, instead.  Sort of,” Avexis amended.  “He told me that we both had to do what we must.  And here I am – after doing so?”  She tried to lift her stump again and gave up at the first gasp of pain.  “Pitiful.  I can hardly try to stop him now.”

“But you’re alive.” Cullen managed a smile.

“I promised to spend my life with you. What was I supposed to do?  Throw that away and live forever as a second rate Elvhen?”  She sniffed, “You must not think much of my promises if-”

Cullen kissed her, cutting her off before she could finish, but pulled back before she could enjoy it. “Thank you.”

“Things will get complicated now,” she warned him. “The Council will be even more of a mess.  If we don’t give in…”

“Politics can wait, Ladybird.”

“We may have to run.” She continued, ignoring his concerns.  “It will look like we’re abandoning everyone.  It will look awful.”  She leaned against him, head to his chest.  It pulled on her arm but wasn’t intolerable.  “I don’t want to worry about what people think.”

Cullen chuckled. “We’ll figure it out.  You won’t be well enough to address the Council for days.  You’ve been asleep for six.”

“Six?! They’ll never be this patient again.” She moved as if to get up, but Cullen stopped her.  “I need to…”

“You’re the one that needs to be patient. And be the patient,” he chuckled.  “Get it?”

She pouted to hide her smile, “You should never make puns.”

He merely kissed her forehead and set the water back on the table. “Get well, and we’ll discuss it.”

<DT>

 

They regrouped a few hours, and a long nap, later, this time with Leliana, Josie, and Cassandra all in the room. Leliana was wearing her Divine robes again, but was largely silent, as she weighed the story Avexis had to tell, only murmuring, “If only Morrigan was still with us.”

“So, she is gone, then?” Avexis laid back against her pillows, feeling weak.  “I thought perhaps she’d stay…”  It was hard not to feel abandoned – but she had been warned that this was what Morrigan planned.

“I tried to have her trailed, and failed,” Leliana admitted. “She disappeared, really – the eluvian strapped to her back - without a trace.  Her and her son.  Again.” Frustration oozed out of Leliana's dulcet tones.

“Is there anyone else we can ask? Who else has her expertise?  Wasn’t there a rift mage among the soldiers -” Cullen racked his brains, “Cillian?  Was that his name?”

“I didn’t want to worry you during your convalescence,” Josie hesitated, and then shook her head, “but the elves in the Inquisition have largely disappeared, with only a few exceptions. Cillian was among the first, Commander.”

“What?” Cullen expostulated.

“Down to the lowest runner,” Josie admitted, lowly. “I’m sorry, Cullen.  Their – their ties lay elsewhere.  At least now we know something about why?”

“If not where, and we at least know with whom,” Leliana added, dryly.

Avexis closed her eyes, and listened to her blood beat, and the Well murmur, largely incomprehensible and without direction. “What can we do?  With our forces lessened so?  We’ve been infiltrated – can we even come back from that?”

“There are two options, as I see it,” Cassandra was crisp, professional. “We can link ourselves back with the Chantry –“Cullen shook his head, but said nothing.  “-Or we can disband the Inquisition and attempt to stop Solas from destroying the world with the handful of people we have left.  Or even less.”

The group was quiet, looking to Avexis, who merely closed her eyes again. The Well was silent, just when she needed guidance most.  Either it didn’t know where Solas was, or she wasn’t supposed to know.

Leliana whispered, “He knows all our secrets, our people.”

“There are other people?” Josie pointed out, gingerly.

“Neither Orlais or Ferelden will appreciate having a secret society operating within their country.” Cullen stood and paced the room, his dog watching him from his place on the floor.  “And yet what other choice do we have?”

Avexis shuddered, “I could – I could restore the Circles. If we put him on the defensive- “

“Not an option,” both Cullen and Leliana said together.

“Hear me out – if we restored the Templar order, they could hunt- “

“NO!” Cullen slammed his fist down.  The women jumped, and he strained to calm himself.  “I apologize.  I mourn the loss of my former brothers, but this is not the way.”

“I agree. It couldn’t be done without my approval, in any case.” Leliana inclined her head, “If he is, indeed, a trickster figure out of the tales, he will not be so easy to find.”  She tilted her head in thought, staring at the tiled pattern on the ceiling, seeming to trace them with a single finger.  “No, you will have to recruit new people, and… allow the bulk of us to retire.”  She dropped her hand.  “Let him think he has won, Inquisitor, while you do what he did, and find people to work in the shadows.  Two can play at that game.”

Josie was quiet, her hands twisted into fists in the fabric of her tunic.

“Josie?” Avexis asked her, without elaborating.

Her chest swelled with the deep breath she took to respond. “Orlais wants the control and power that being the center of the Southern Chantry gives them, but without the Templars – or Seekers – that control is limited.”  She thought for a moment, “Which… might not be a bad thing, to tilt the direction of power that the Orlesian Empire has.  It will create opportunities amongst the other nations, a power vacuum, if you will.  New ideas – and resources – will come from that.  Both bring new people to the table.”

Leliana smiled at her friend’s observations, and Josie continued. “If you do align yourself with the Chantry, there will be… expectations.  While changes are inevitable, given our new Divine…”

“You have no idea,” Leliana murmured, her smile a thing of shadow and mystery, but her eyes full of hope that Avexis wasn’t sure she’d ever seen there before.

“Such drastic changes might cause more tumult among the populace, when the Chantry is… not what they expected.” Josie released the bunched up fabric, throwing her hands up in frustration.  “Thedas is changing – we’ve changed it – and it’s impossible to know exactly how things will fall out.”

“It’s better than how we found it, after the Conclave,” Cullen muttered, running his fingers through the back of his hair.

“We are all agreed in that, Commander,” Josie said, primly. “But the people will see it differently.  So many changes in so short a time will leave them scared, scrambling to keep up.”

Avexis sighed, “I’m… tired.” She looked back up at her Ambassador, “How soon can I address the Council?”

“They have… questions for you,” Josie admitted. “Many questions, which they would like answered as soon as possible.”

“And demands,” Cassandra broke in, nearly fiercely. “Vivienne is making a certain amount of traction, Avexis.  You should know you are not walking into a room full of supporters.  They are more than aware than ever that you are an elf – and were the only one alone with Solas that day.”

Avexis nodded. “But how soon?”

“Tomorrow, if you’re well enough,” Josie allowed, glancing at Cullen, who was still wrestling with his own thoughts, and didn’t respond.

“Then I will rest today, and we will reconvene in the morning,” Avexis paused. “Whatever happens then, it has been an honor to serve as your Inquisitor.”

“The honor has been ours,” Leliana smiled, almost sadly, and curtseyed. “’Til morning, Inquisitor.”

Avexis watched her husband close the door – and lock it – behind them. She watched him throw himself into a chair, and cradle his head in his hands, staring at the floor.  “Parles, Cullen.”

“I won’t let them take you.”

“I won’t let myself be taken.” He jerked his head up.  “Do you think you’re the only one who has changed their mind about their place in the world?”  She lifted her stump of an arm, wincing.  “I may not be able to fight with my staff any longer, but I am hardly without defenses.”

Cullen laughed, harsh, “No one could ever accuse you of that, Ladybird.” He paused and cleared his throat.  “When you… transform, will your limbs be intact?”

Avexis blinked at him. “I… have not had occasion to find out.”

“It seems like something we might want to find out – before you address the Council.”

“In case we have to flee, you mean,” Avexis lowered her gaze. “I don’t know if I have the energy.”

“Then sleep, for now.” Cullen rose and kissed her forehead.  “I’ll keep watch, and throw some things together.”

Avexis let him lift the covers around her and snuggled a little deeper into the pillows. “I never thought I’d enjoy hearing someone say that so much.”

Cullen let his hand drift to brush a lock of hair away from her face. “I’ll always be here, as long as I live.”

“Good.” With that, Avexis let her eyes stay closed, and drifted back, into the Fade.

 


	41. Heading Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2/3 Chapters that go up today.

The Council convened the next morning, but the debates had begun long before the doors to the Chamber opened. People parted as Avexis – trying to remain upright and walk straight – entered the long approach.  The Council sat, waiting for her, silently.

She refused to let herself be intimidated by the whispers she heard from every corner. What would a dragon care for whispers?  But she didn’t feel very dragonlike at all, at the moment.

“Madame de Fer says the mark is gone – that elf can’t protect us from the rifts anymore. If she ever could.”

“They say it was one of her own companions who was responsible for this whole mess! They may have been in league together all this time!”

“Surely they were not responsible for the Civil War,” tutted another. “That was all Celene and her cousin, n’est-ce pas?”

“But if Celene had not dallied with…”

"What can you expect, from elves..."

“Shhh, she’s listening.” The men stepped back, as Cullen glared at them.  “Maker, the Commander is even more protective, now that she’s married him.”

“Such a hasty business, do you think he-“

The whispers drifted away, but Avexis bent her head towards Cullen, “What are you supposed to have done? Or is it me?”

“Who knows,” he growled, irritable. “It could be any number of things.”  His walk sped up.  “I suspect they’re angriest at my audacity to take myself off their imaginary market.  As if I was a commodity to be purchased.”

They’d reached the doors, and Josie stepped to her side, to join her in her walk up the aisle. Behind them, people filed into their seats, but Avexis chose to remain standing, even when invited to sit.  “You are not on trial here, Inquisitor,” Leliana began.  “Nor are you well.  Won’t you sit?”

“Am I not, Most Holy?” Avexis asked, not without humor.  “I hear things, even in my sickroom.  And I am used to being accused of things I have not done.”  A guilty silence hung over the room with her comments.  “Forgive me if I choose to stand.”

“We should begin, in any case,” the Comte de Montfort pressed. “Tell me, what are your dealings with the man you knew as Solas?”

The day wore on, and Avexis eventually had to sit, as the questions flew at her like so many arrows. Had she suspected?  How could she not suspect?  How did she feel about the prospect of an Elvhen homeland?  Did this ‘Fen’Harel’ tell her anything of note?  What about this ‘Well of Sorrows’ – did it tell her anything of import?

The day wore on, and she wilted, visibly, and it was only then that Vivienne rose to her feet – unlike most of her questioners who had remained seated during their interrogations. Avexis snapped to attention as she felt Cullen tense next to her.  “It seems obvious what the Chantry’s next step should be,” the woman intoned gravely.

Leliana cleared her throat, “May I remind the Grand Enchanter that she is not the Divine?” Titters rose through the room, and Divine Victoria called them to order.  Vivienne remained standing.  “Tell me, then, Grand Enchanter – what – in your humble opinion – should the next step be?”

“There are several, your Holiness,” Vivienne sighed, as if it should be obvious. “First of all, we need to reclaim the Templar Order – absorb the Inquisition back into the Chantry, in service to Andraste and the Maker, as it used to be.”  The room was silent now – in approval or not, Avexis could not tell.  “Second, we need to declare an Exalted March upon this ‘Fen’Harel’ and his followers.”

The roar of the room was loud enough that Avexis reached up to cover her ears before the pulling pain reminded her that she couldn’t.

Leliana let the noise die down, and Vivienne continued. “Also, we need to re-institute the Circles.  Solas is precisely the sort of mage that the Circles are meant to confine.  He should be rendered Tranquil-“ Cullen stood immediately, moving to stand behind his wife, clutching her right shoulder like a lifeline.  “-along with others, equally guilty,” Vivienne continued, altogether too smoothly.  “Only then will the chaos truly end.”

“Tranquility is how this mess began!” Cullen argued.  “The abuse of the Rite-“

He wasn’t the only one protesting – in the back, the rebel mage leaders had risen to their feet, shouting their outrage and anger.

Avexis’ terror propelled her upwards. Cullen’s hand on her shoulder supported her, strengthened her.  Divine Victoria called for order.  “I believe the Inquisitor has something to say.”

There was no help for it. “The Inquisition’s goals have been met.”  Avexis stared at Vivienne.  “We’ve restored order-“

“You call this order?” Vivienne waved a graceful hand around her.

“It’s over, Vivienne.” Avexis raised her chin.  “I am disbanding the Inquisition, effective immediately.”  She turned to the Divine.  “I do not support an Exalted March on anyone, and I won’t let my people be used in such a manner.  I will surrender Griffon Wing to the Wardens, Suledan to Orlais, and Caer Bronach to Ferelden.”  Leliana inclined her head – and Avexis couldn’t tell if she was hiding a smile.  “Consider this my resignation.”

And the room erupted in chaos.

Avexis merely turned and walked out of the room, careful not to walk too fast, Cullen at her back. Once they were free of the crowds, she murmured, “Our bags are packed?”

“Yes, Inqu-“ Cullen stopped himself, wryly amused at his near-mistake. “Avexis.”

“Good. We leave immediately.  We tell no one.”

“Then let us go.” They climbed the stairs to their rooms, Avexis stumbling.  “Ladybird, you’re exhausted.”

“I’ll… manage.” She looked up at him, her forehead greasy with sweat.  “If I have to, I’ll transform into something small, and let you carry me.”

“Do you have the energy?”

Avexis shrugged and allowed him to open the door to their chambers. Their bags were by the door, already packed.  “I have to.”

The sun was setting, and the warning bugle call came from the Gates of the Sun that they would be closing in fifteen minutes. Cullen snatched up the bags, and groaning, Avexis shivered and shrank, until she was a raven, cawing pitifully.  Recruit stood and allowed her master to strap on the saddlebags.  “They’ll recognize me,” Cullen told the shuddering raven.  He scooped her up and tucked her inside his coat.  “We’ll just have to hope they don’t care.”

“Just as well I know a secret exit,” a stern voice said outside the door.

Cullen had his sword half-drawn, but Cassandra stood, Rylen next to her. “You’re leaving.  Now.”  She marched in and grabbed the remaining satchel.  “Follow me.”

“How do you know-“

“You learn things, when you’re the Right Hand,” she bit out. “Stop talking and walk.  We’ve only a few minutes before we will be intercepted by incompetent well-wishers and spies.”

They wove down through the servants’ entrance, with not a servant to be seen. Apparently the elves were abandoning other places, other than the Inquisition.   They almost ran through the hedge garden, taking twists and turns that Cullen couldn’t track.  The Seeker slipped sideways along a wall, and cleared her throat, as they stopped by a trapdoor sunk into the floor of a gazebo that was completely overgrown.  With effort, she and Rylen lifted it away.  “We’ll put it back into place, once you’re out,” she said, shortly.  “If anyone comes, they’ll just find Rylen and me…” she colored and didn’t finish, but Rylen chuckled.

“Don’t worry, Seeker, I’ll do my part.”

“You’d better.” But she was still blushing.

Cullen took the still-shivering Avexis out of his coat, and handed her to Cassandra, who awkwardly stroked her head. “Goodbye, my friend.”  The raven rubbed her head against her hand, and the Seeker handed her back to Cullen, who tucked her away again.  “Be fast.  Be safe.  If you harm her, whether it is tomorrow or two dozen years from now, I’ll hunt you down.”  She raised her chin, eyes gleaming.  “It’s a straight tunnel to the edge of the city.  You’ll come up in a cave, next to a well.  Head south from there, to find a road heading northeast.  Maker aid you both.”

And with that, Cullen stepped into the darkness, Recruit close behind him.

He walked, one hand trailing the wall, and one hand on his dog, hearing his heartbeat too loud, and trying not to think about how low the ceiling might be. Against his chest, Avexis squirmed like she wanted out, and Cullen managed a laugh.  “Be still, Ladybird.”

She squirmed more. “Look, I know you’d be able to see in here, but you’re tired,” he tried to explain.

She dug her beak into his armpit, and he yelped, and then laughed. “Fine.”  He took her out of his cloak and set her down.  “There.”

She still shook beneath his hand, but managed to change back, breathing hard. “Merde,” she murmured, voice hoarse.  “I won’t be able to do that again for a while.”

“I told you-“

“I need to eat something,” she snapped. “I refuse to eat like a raven.  Disgusting.”

“Oh,” Cullen colored. “I didn’t think-“

“Exactly.” He felt her hand grab his, and he lifted her to her feet. “What do we have?”

He whistled for Recruit, and the dog pushed himself under his hand so he could feel around for the clasps on the bag, handing a hard biscuit to her. “It’s not a mabari treat,” he assured her.

She laughed, “Judging by the treats you feed her, I wouldn’t mind if it was.” He heard her eat, and then sigh.  “Is there another?”

He handed her another, silently, and she devoured that as well. “Another?”

He felt her shake her head. “We should preserve the food we have left.  It might be some days before either of us can risk a village.”  She paused.  “I have an idea, though.”

“I would love to hear it.” He refastened Recruit’s bags by feel, marveling at the patience of the dog as he fumbled.

“To start with I think – I think we should go home.”

“To Skyhold?”

She laughed, breathily, “No. I mean Honnleath.”

Cullen was speechless, merely starting to walk. “It’s a long way on foot.”

“We don’t have to do it all on foot.” She took a deep breath.  “There are a few options.  We could go back to the Eluvian at Halamshiral – they wouldn’t expect us to backtrack.”

“Back into that viper’s nest?”

“I didn’t think you’d like it. But I could get us… somewhere that way.”

“Where?”

“Closer?” He heard her shrug, with a muffled gasp. “I don’t know, but it would save time.”  She paused, “The other is that I could transform into something fast.”

“You could barely manage a raven.”

“But we would-“

“I don’t think you should. Not until you’re more… healed.”

“We’ll be found before we can get anywhere otherwise.”

“We’ll argue about it later,” Cullen sighed, and resisted rubbing his neck. “We can’t go back, Ladybird.  We’ll be found.  You know we will.”

“Then we have to get somewhere and hire a mount,” Avexis grumbled. “And being seen risks everything.  You’re not exactly inconspicuous.  Even if I stay hidden…”

The ground beneath them started to slope upwards.  Slowly they climbed, and then emerged from a cave into moonlight.  “Should we sleep here?”  Cullen asked.

Avexis answered, after pausing. “I think we should keep moving, for now.  We can find a different place in a few hours.”

“We’ll help with that,” A gruff voice replied next to them. Cullen drew his sword.  “Put it away, Commander.”  Thom and Sigrid stepped out.  “About time you showed.  Cassandra made us think you’d be here hours ago.  We were counting on having most of the night to travel in.  Guess you put up with those poncy windbags longer than I thought you would, Inquisitor?”

“That’s not my title,” Avexis laughed, and stumbled forward, face wan in the limited light, and eyes glowing. “I guess I did.”  She grinned.  “What’s the plan?”

“We get you out of Orlais.” Sigrid had been knitting and was stuffing her work back into her bags.  “We bought horses two days ago, while you were still sleeping.  Thought we might need them.”

Cullen heard a soft bleating. “Maker’s Breath, are those…”

Avexis’ face lit up, “Maferath and Andraste!” She laughed, “Sigrid, tu es l’ange!  You brought my goats!”

Cullen couldn’t help but laugh. “So, we’re going to travel together, then.”

Thom nodded. “More protection, and Siggy here knows the Avvar lands.  More of us means they won’t be paying as much attention to the one-armed elf.  Keep us out of trouble.”

The woman snorted, “As if anyone could.” But she smiled.  “I’ll get us across the Frostbacks well enough.  It’ll take some time, but none of us are unaccustomed to hard traveling.”

Cullen cleared his throat, “Are we expecting anyone else?”

Thom shook his head, “Bull is escorting Dorian back to Tevinter. Varric is heading home to Kirkwall.  Sera is providing a false trail, towards Montsimmard.  Cassandra is going to stay in the city, for now.  We should be safe, Inquisitor.”

“That’s not my title,” Avexis murmured again.

“Nonsense.” Thom swallowed.  “Now, as long as you’re well enough, we should get moving.”

Cullen helped Avexis mount a horse, and then climbed up behind her. There would be time enough to practice riding one handed, in the days to come.  “Where are we going, Thom?”

“Whereever you want to go,” the man answered, his teeth flashing white in the moonlight. “Not up to us.  We’re just along for the ride.”

“We’re going to Honnleath,” Avexis replied firmly.

“Then Honnleath it is.” And with a cluck to the horses, they were on their way.

 


	42. Found At Last - An Epilogue, One Year Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is it. The last chapter.
> 
> Thank you again, all of you, for reading it. It's been silly, and scary, and hard to write in places, but I can think of no better holiday gift to our readers than to wrap this up this time of year.
> 
> You are all appreciated, whether you send kudos or comments, or just read quietly. Iduna and I hope you were amused.
> 
> And now, I'll let you finish our little story, and see where Avexis ended up.

_ONE YEAR LATER_

 

“Avexis!” Cullen wrestled the back door open with a foot, nudging away the fine gauze his wife had hung to keep the bugs out.  “Could I get a hand…”

“As long as it’s just one!” Avexis rose from her spinning wheel.  “Is that the…” her eyes shone, looking at the contraption they held between them.  “Will it fit?!”

“In the addition, it will,” Thom assured her. “I made it especially, Inquisitor.”

“I wish you’d call me by my name, Thom.”

“No point asking. Not like you get any other guests.”  The two smirked at each other, the conversation long established.  “Now, about that hand… if you could get the doors?”

Avexis rushed to open the door to the small room Cullen and Thom had slaved to finish in the last few months, after they’d put together a basic cabin for the other couple. Their first winter had been hard – they’d never had made it without Sigrid and Thom.  The two of them had made frequent trips back to civilization, bringing necessary items – and even had managed to make it back to Skyhold, long since abandoned again, to fetch a few things Avexis had missed.

But the loom the two men carried now was the most exciting thing that had happened in the year since they’d fled Orlais. “Is it hard to set up?”

“Not at all,” grunted Thom. “At least according to Siggy.”  The woman in question trailed behind them, holding an armful of random parts.

In a short amount of time – but longer than both men thought should have been necessary – the loom was assembled, and the group stood around it in a loose group to admire it. “It should be in your home,” Avexis told Sigrid, apologetically.

“You’re the one with the room, and the design was your idea,” the other woman contradicted. “And I’m always over here anyway.  Thom complains about it constantly, as if he was any better.”  There was a chittering at the window, and Avexis spun around, drawing her new lightweight staff from her shoulder, with only a touch of awkwardness.

“We have visitors,” she warned.

Cullen drew his sword, and Thom unfastened the snap on the hatchet at his hip. “Stay here,” he ordered Avexis.

“I will not-“ 

“Please, love.” Avexis rolled her eyes. 

There was a knock at the front door, and Cullen called out, cautiously. “Who goes there?” 

“Dammit, Cullen, just open the door!” Rylen’s voice came through, muffled and irritable.  “It took bloody forever to find the lot of you, and Cassandra’s going to geld me if you don’t.  I need those!” 

Cullen glanced at Avexis for permission, but she was already moving, throwing the door open, and tossing herself at their friends. “You found us!” 

Cassandra embraced her, laughing, if rather grumpily, “I’m a Seeker. Finding things is what I do.” 

Avexis drew back, wiping happy tears away. “Come in.  There’s hot water.  I’ll make tea…”  She bit her lip, “And I think Cullen left some of the shortbread intact?”

“There’s a first time for everything,” Rylen chuckled, and stepped over the threshold. “You’ve got a nice setup here, Cullen.  You've been very busy.”

“My parents built it well, we’ve only made a few improvements,” Cullen contradicted, looking around, and then waving them to the chairs by the table in the corner, covered with illustrations reminiscent of the murals in Skyhold. “Have a seat?” 

Cassandra sat down, stiffly. “I suppose you haven’t heard anything of note, but there isn't much to tell.  Solas remains hidden - better than you.”  She picked up the pictures - starry skies and what looked like a sunset - and raised an eyebrow at Cullen, who rubbed the back of his neck.  She flipped through them all, looking at constellations and skylines from across Thedas, from Griffon Wing to Kinloch Hold.

“Just the rumors Thom and Sig bring back on their travels,” Avexis sat across from her. “It’s so wonderful to see you.”  She took her hand in hers.  “I’ve missed you.”

The older woman colored. “Well, I had to let you know.”  She lifted her chin.  “Rylen and I are getting married.”

Avexis frowned, “I… knew that? Weren’t you engaged a year ago?”

“Yes, well, I didn’t want to rush into anything.” She flushed deeper.  “Redcliffe has a Chantry, and we’d like you to stand up with us.  The Revered Mother there recognized my name, and-“

“You haven’t married her yet?” Cullen asked Rylen.  “I thought you were a fast mover?”

“I couldn’t exactly drag her off, man!”

“Says you,” Sig muttered, sipping her tea. “None of you lowlanders do anything the right way.”

Thom chuckled and squeezed her hip. “I could arrange a little something.”

"Where would we run off to?  Our own cabin?!" Sigrid scoffed.  "You'll have to do better than that."

“The point is,” Cassandra spoke over all of them, “is that we’re doing it now. If you’ll come with us.”

“Please do,” Rylen put in. “I’m getting lectures about living in sin from the woman I’m doing it with.”

Avexis glanced at her husband and he shrugged, “It’s been a while since you were seen in Redcliffe, I suppose. And they do have a new Revered Mother, since you were there during the war.”

“It’s risky,” Thom muttered.

“I’ll go,” Avexis decided, and touched Cassandra’s hand. “I never thought I’d get to see you married, much less be a witness.”  She touched her ear, “Will it matter that I’m…

“As if I’d have anyone else,” Cassandra grumped. “And the Mother can lump it if she doesn’t like it.  You’re a better Andrastian than I am.”

“But with the elves all but disappeared…”

“I told you, it doesn’t matter. If she won’t do it, I’m not getting married.  Wear a hat, if it troubles you so!”

Rylen coughed, “Commander, if you would be so kind-“

“Of course,” Cullen’s eyes softened. “I’d be honored.”

“Good, then it’s settled,” Cassandra rose. “Now, we have to set up camp…”

“You’re staying here,” Avexis ordered immediately. “You and Rylen can have our bed and we’ll sleep in the loft.”

Cassandra narrowed her eyes, “How do you manage to climb a ladder?”

Avexis’ eyes twinkled, “Who needs a ladder?” In a flash of feathers, she was a raven, winging upwards towards the loft, and back down to the table.

“Oh.” Was all that Cassandra said when she changed back.  “I suppose I thought-“

“That I’d be missing a limb?” Avexis shrugged, “It doesn’t seem to matter, in the other form.”  She hesitated, “Not that I’ve tried to become a dragon since.  I only change when it’s useful.  It will be a while before I need that skill again.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Cassandra still seemed awkward but hugged her again.  “It is good to see you, my friend.”

“I’ll see your horses settled,” Cullen grinned. “It’s not much of a stable, but it’s a roof, at least.”  They watched him leave, trailed by his former Captain.

“The Commander seems rather… giddy,” Cassandra said stiffly.

“Yes, well, we haven’t gotten any guests, other than Thom and Sig.” Avexis pushed the plate of shortbread closer to the Seeker, who took one.  “We’re away from everything out here.  Just as well.”

“What do you mean?” 

Avexis hesitated. “Can you keep a secret?”

Cassandra just glared.

 

<DT>

 

Half an hour later the three women were standing by the edge of the hot springs. Avexis was glowing, as she pointed out several oblong objects in the shallows.  “There.” 

“Maker have mercy,” Cassandra knelt down. “You… you brought them here?” 

“The dragon eggs.” Avexis beamed at her friend.  “When Sig said that Skyhold was being abandoned, I had to rescue them.  I don’t know when they’ll hatch – I can’t contact the Professeur, obviously, but – I can even hear them now.  I think that it will be soon.”  She shrugged, uneven, with the missing arm.  “A trip to Redcliffe shouldn’t matter one way or the other.” 

“You have dragon eggs.” Cassandra drawled, trailing her hand through the water.  “In your _pond_.” 

“Hot springs,” Avexis corrected, a little primly, and changed the subject. “What did you think of my tapestry design?”  She slipped off her shoes, and sat down, only a little awkwardly. 

“The pictures on the table, I presume?  You designed those?” 

“And Cullen drew them,” she affirmed, dipping her feet in the water. “You remember the hymn, don’t you?  The Dawn Will Come?”

“How could I forget?” Cassandra sighed, and sat down next to her, struggling to get her boots off.  “Since when do you weave?” 

“Only a hand loom, until now. I can’t knit any longer, so Sigrid suggested this, instead.”  Avexis tucked her hair behind her ear.  “It will be my first big project.  The story of the Inquisition.”  She looked down into the water, watching Cassandra’s feet join hers.  “My story.  The story about how the dawn finally came.”

“Dawn’s Tapestry,” Cassandra said softly. “That explains the skies in the pictures, then.  The stars, and the colors -” her words were stiff.  "Very pretty." 

Avexis nodded, her head lifting to stare off into the distance. “I… I felt like I needed to-“ she gestured, pointlessly, with her hand.  “Wrap it up, somehow.”  Her hand settled back in her lap.  “I think it will help.”

“What about Solas?”

“He won’t be able to find me, by the time I’m done,” Avexis grinned. “I haven’t been weaving just threads into my smaller pieces, Cassandra.  I’m better than Siggy at knot magic now.  This tapestry will tell the story and hide me forever – unless I want to be found.  It's safer that way.  If there is an emergency, Cole can always find me."  She side-eyed Cassandra.  "Don't spread that around, please."

Cassandra was silent, but after a moment, sighed. “You have a good life here.”

“We do.”

“I’m… glad.” Cassandra glanced at her.  “Do you need anything?”

Avexis' eyes narrowed with humor, “Not unless you know a way to grow witherstalk in Ferelden.”

“Wrong climate,” Cassandra drawled, and then hesitated. “So children…”

“Not now, anyway,” she said firmly. “It’s… a wild life for a child, out here.  There are already rumors about a new Witch of the Wilds in Redcliffe.  A child would need so many things we can’t provide yet.  And there are the dragons to think of.  Thom and Sig are spreading rumors, to keep people away.  And the wards help a great deal.”

“You and dragons,” Cassandra huffed, and then laughed, surprisingly lighthearted. “I never thought your story would end this way.  With you in a hut at the edge of Ferelden?”

“My story? Ending?  Nonsense,” Avexis smiled, wide and beautiful.  “It’s just beginning.”

 

_Fin_

 

 


End file.
